


Seek and Ye Shall Find

by hidden_pastry



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Noir, CWs at the start of each chapter, Closeted Character(s), Detectives, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Historical Fantasy, I have no idea how long this is going to be, Lots of random youtuber cameos, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, POV Dan Howell, Plot-focused at first, Slow Burn, The violence won't be super graphic but there will be some, detective!Dan, homme fatale!Phil, minor alcohol mentions, no major character deaths i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22906081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidden_pastry/pseuds/hidden_pastry
Summary: On hiatus. Will get finished eventually! Just not right now. Probably early 2021. Stay tuned!In a twisted version of 1920s London, Dan works as a detective trying to solve a mystery he has been following for years. When faced with the mastermind, a man with the power to turn invisible, it seems like Dan is the only one who might even have a chance at cracking the case. But soon, Dan begins to realize that not everything is as it seems, and as the lines of reason become blurred, he can only hope the choices he has made are the right ones. But how can he believe in his actions when he isn’t even sure about who he is anymore?
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 39
Kudos: 24





	1. But When We Die, We Die Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mild gore and death

Dan wasn’t sure what he thought he would be doing day-to-day when he decided to go into law years ago, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

In front of him lay the twisted remains of a young man. Early 20s, most likely, PJ had told him, and multiple stab wounds. Face completely mutilated, eyes gouged out and found a few meters away. A once-fine suit now stained dirty brown by blood. The rest of his features were completely unrecognizable; it was going to be difficult to identify the man, but thankfully, that wasn’t Dan’s job. 

“Do you see anything?” PJ asked. 

Dan scanned the scene. Lots of blood, but no traces of any magical interference. The putrid scent of the body wormed its way up his nose and he quickly dulled that particular sense. His sharp eyes examined the ground around the body, but found nothing. 

“No, there’s nothing I can see,” Dan said. “They didn’t bind anything, and I don’t see any glints. It might have been too long. Although…” 

He knelt down and gently turned the dead man’s right hand over, revealing the cuff of his sleeve. What he assumed was the cufflink had run down the side. “This is melted, but I think it was probably the victim that did it,” Dan said. “I guess that might help narrow down the search. But it means it’s definitely been too long for me to be any help.”

PJ nodded. “He has heat, then. I’ll let the main investigator know.” 

Dan double-checked the body one last time then stood and followed. No, the body was too old for him to see anything. He looked out of the alleyway, where a bustling street was just a few meters away, curious onlookers kept away only by a single officer. The mutilated man must have screamed, right?

The sergeant in charge of the investigation was chatting with PJ when Dan approached. “...must have taken a while,” she said, grimacing. “We called you in because it looks like there might be premeditation involved.”

PJ was nodding along and about to say something when Dan interrupted. “Sorry. I think the attacker might have had sound.” The sergeant jumped when he spoke, not having seen his approach. “Dan Howell. I’m his partner.” Dan cocked his head towards PJ as he held out his hand. 

“Oh I see!” The sergeant shook his hand enthusiastically, smiling far too brightly for the scene around them. “The Seeker. It’s too bad that we caught it too late for you to find anything. But you said you think the attacker has sound? We were just thinking that ourselves,” she said, gesturing towards PJ.

PJ nodded his head. “The street is right there, and he’s torn up pretty badly. Someone must have heard, unless someone was dampening the area,” he explained. 

Dan nodded. “That’s what I was thinking too.” 

“Could that mean that it might be premeditated then? If the attacker himself didn’t have sound, he might have hired someone who did,” the sergeant offered. 

Dan thought for a moment, but shook his head. “I don’t think there’s enough information yet. Maybe once you get an identification we can figure out a motive.”

“He looks wealthy, so it could have just been a mugging,” PJ agreed. “A gruesome mugging, but who knows. You said you didn’t find anything in the pockets, right?” The sergeant nodded and PJ continued. “That supports the mugging idea. But I do think we need more information.” 

The sergeant thanked them for coming and they responded in kind, telling her to contact their office as soon as they have an identification, and finally Dan was free to leave the sickening scene and head back to the office with PJ. He tried not to think about the man, but couldn’t get the picture out of his head. The blank stare of empty eye holes dug into his mind, and he knew it would be added to the collection of images that haunted him at night. 

Dan sighed. Why did he want to do this again? The more time went on, the more the reasons seemed to slip away from him. Dan was a Seeker; his genetics afforded him the ability to see traces of other magics and heighten his senses past what others could. In so many ways, just because of this, he was perfect for the job. He could be the perfect investigator, able to see the most minute details of any crime scene. It was fate, really. 

That’s what he told himself when the faces of the dead woke him in the middle of the night, at least. 

He could admit the truth, though. Five years ago when he left Oxford Law, tired of the bureaucracy, he knew he wanted to be useful. What was more useful than a Seeker detective? Even on cases that he wasn’t assigned to, he was constantly being called to crime scenes to investigate the surrounding area. It wasn’t that his affinities were unique or even rare, but with the combination of both sensing magic and heightened senses in one person, it was easier than calling two separate people. 

Of course, other affinities could be even more useful, Dan was reminded as PJ pulled open the door to their office from about two meters away. As they stepped in, PJ pulled the door shut with a flick of his wrist and touched a metal pole running over the walls. Instantaneously, the pole began to glow, brighter and more steady than any candle. Telekinesis and light were PJ’s affinities, a combination known as a Beamer. At times, PJ had complained to Dan that he thought light just wasn’t useful, but Dan knew PJ had just grown used to having it around. 

“How was it?” Tom stood in the doorway to his office, a mug of coffee in his hand. 

“Uneventful,” PJ told the head detective.

“And gross,” Dan added. 

“At least you didn’t have to smell it,” PJ said. 

“Oh trust me, I did,” Dan rebutted. “I think I’d have to chop off my nose entirely to get rid of that.” 

“Premeditation?” Tom asked, wiping coffee out of the whiskers of his mustache. 

PJ shook his head. “Not sure yet. Not enough information. The scene was cold by the time we got there.” 

“Unfortunate,” Tom mused. “Not even a glint?” 

“Not even a glint,” Dan confirmed.

“Well, you know what to do, I guess.” He turned and walked back into his office, the door clicking shut behind him. 

PJ groaned, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Paperwork.” 

Better than more dead bodies, Dan thought. 

* * * 

Dan heard the messenger before he saw her. Really, why was levitation so loud? He wondered if Owlers, with both levitation and magic sense, ever got tired of the noise. 

Seconds later, a tall woman in a loose-fitting outfit burst through the door and landed on the floor, making a loud thud as she dropped from the air. “Thomas Ridgewell?” 

Dan and PJ both pointed to Tom’s office door right as it opened. “Yeah, what is it?” he asked, looking bewildered.

“You’ve been asked for at a scene downtown. Pentland Jewelry, not sure what happened but they want you there.” The words fell out of her mouth in a rush. 

“Oh, well… _oh_.” A look of recognition flashed over his face. “Let them know we will be there as soon as we can,” he said, turning back into his office and returning a moment later with a coat slung over his arm. 

The messenger just nodded and pushed herself up from the ground in the direction of the door. To Dan’s ears, the loud buzzing started again as soon as she did so. A semi-visible blue-green aura emanated from the underside of her body, leaving a trail that  
followed her out the door, where she bounced on the ground once again, using the momentary contact to change direction. The buzzing quieted as the messenger zipped away, unbound by the limits of friction. 

Dan just hoped she hadn’t directed them towards another dead body. Two in one day seemed like a bit much. 

“You two are coming with. You can finish that later,” Tom told them. Dan and PJ shared a knowing look before standing and following Tom out the door. 

“This is _that_ case, isn’t it?” PJ asked him as they walked. 

“Probably,” Tom replied. “She said it was Pentland Jewelry. I know their scouts have been seen around that area.” 

“So there’s new information?” Dan asked. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” Tom said. 

Before long they arrived at a surprisingly small, stately brick store that was towered over by the surrounding buildings. A small wooden sign hanging down from the storefront indicated it was the right place. Inside, the store was dimly but evenly lit, but surprisingly, Dan saw no merchandise. Instead, there was a long wooden counter and behind were multiple large metal safes. For the jewelry, he surmised. 

The group got about five paces into the store before being stopped by two very large men in black suits. “Names?” one asked, voice deep and gruff. 

“Thomas Ridgewell, we’re here on beha—”

“Oh you’re finally here!” The voice came from behind the counter. A blonde-haired woman with a wide grin came into view as the bodyguards stepped away. “Thank God. Something’s up Tom, I just know it.”  
She gave them all a quick hug and beckoned them to the counter. The two bodyguards stayed by the door, content now it was clear they weren’t thieves. 

“So what’s new, Louise?” Tom asked. 

“We caught one spying just now,” she began as she rustled around under the counter, returning with mugs. “Tea?”

Tom nodded but Dan and PJ politely declined. “So was it someone you had seen spying before?” Tom asked. 

Louise nodded. “We had seen him on the rooftop next door almost every day. Liam,” she jutted a thumb to one of the bodyguards by the door, “managed to catch him before he got away. Only levitation, thankfully. Though he did jump off the roof. I don’t think he realized Liam has levitation as well.” She smiled at Liam as she poured the tea into two mugs.

“Wait, you _caught_ him? I thought you meant caught as in saw him watching. Where is he?” Tom asked.

“Back room,” Louise replied. “Got someone binding him down.”

“Can we see him?” Tom asked. 

“Of course, dear, that’s why I asked you here!” She motioned to the door just behind her. 

Tom jumped out of his seat, tea forgotten, and Dan and PJ followed, neither entirely sure what to expect. 

The room behind the door was small and cramped as they entered. A man and a woman wearing the same black suits as the bodyguards stood next to a small, scruffy man with hands cuffed to a metal pole against the wall. His head was slumped down and he made no attempts to fight the restraints, but nonetheless the two guards didn’t look away from him as they entered the room. 

Dan saw the lines of distortion tracing out from his face and the low hum that accompanied it as the man channeled heightened senses. Levitation and heightening, making him a Spriter, Dan thought. 

“A Spriter,” Tom said aloud, mirroring Dan’s thoughts. The two bodyguards nodded. 

“That makes sense,” the woman said. “Doubt he could have seen much from on top of the building without heightening.”

“Still risky,” Tom said. “Not exactly much cover up there. Must have been confident he wouldn’t be seen.” 

The man looked up then, but his face showed nothing. The space around his eyes distorted as he increased his sense heightening, taking in Tom’s face as if to commit it to memory. 

“What’s your name?” Tom asked the man, but only got the same blank stare in reply. 

“He hasn’t said a thing,” the woman guard said. 

“I doubt we will be able to get much else then,” Tom said with a sigh. “And he hasn’t done anything illegal, really, so we can’t keep him either. But we can send him off with a message.” He leaned in close to the man, nose just a few inches away from his face. “You’re not exactly being subtle. If you try this place, we will catch you. We’re watching you just as closely as you are watching us, PM.” 

Only at the name PM did the spy seem surprised, but quickly regained composure. 

Tom pulled his face away from the man and waved a hand. “Let him go then, I guess.” 

The male guard pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the cuffs. The instant both were unlocked, the scruffy man pushed himself off the ground and shot out of the room before almost crashing into the two guards at the front door. Dan caught Liam’s eye and motioned his hand, signaling to let him through. Reluctantly the two men let the spy escape into the street. 

“That was a PM spy?” Dan asked. 

Tom nodded his head. “PM has been keeping an eye on this place, apparently. Can only assume that means they’re going to rob it.” 

Dan sighed inwardly. Another PM case meant another case they would likely never solve. Louise might as well hand over the key to the vault. 

“Right. Let’s go then,” Tom said. 

“What, and just leave this place alone?” PJ asked. 

“I don’t think they’re going to rob it right this second, and you still have paperwork to do,” Tom noted as they filed out of the small room. “Plus, they have guards.” 

“Thank you so much for coming,” Louise said with the same bright smile. 

“Of course, Louise. You should keep a messenger on hand, though. They’re being so brazen.” 

“I’ll send someone as soon as we see anything strange,” she affirmed. “And I have guards posted permanently now, so we will see them coming.” 

The blustery April air hit them as soon as they stepped out the door and Dan huddled into his coat. The messenger had come not too long before their typical closing time, and the sun had already set, leaving only the cold wind to buffet them. 

“You two can go home,” Tom said. “Can finish the paperwork tomorrow.” 

“Thank God,” PJ said from beside him. “I might go crazy if I have to fill out another form. Sophie and I are going to go out for some drinks though, if you wanted to come,” he said, extending the invitation to both of them. 

Dan met Tom’s eyes and they shared a knowing glance. “Thanks, but I’m good, Peej,” Dan said. “Need to get some sleep after… today.” 

“Me too,” Tom agreed. 

PJ shrugged. “Suit yourselves. Though if you were looking for some distraction from today, I can’t really think of anything that would help more, Dan.” 

Dan averted his eyes, knowing he had been called out. Who was he trying to fool? PJ already knew he was going to go home and think about the dead man all night. 

That didn’t mean it would be better if he went for drinks, though, so he still declined. “I’m ok, Peej. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

PJ nodded. “Yeah, see you then,” he said as he walked in the direction of his apartment. 

“Dan,” Tom said. “Don’t get too caught up on it, yeah? Come knock on my door if it’s getting to be too much.” 

Dan snorted. “I could tell you the same thing.” 

Tom rolled his eyes. “I didn’t go to the scene today, so I’ll be fine. Just take care of yourself, yeah?” He smiled hesitantly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks Tom, I will. I promise.” 

Tom looked satisfied. “Alright, see you tomorrow, bright and early.” He gave a small wave as he walked away. 

Dan knew Tom was genuinely just looking out for him. Just a few years ago when Dan had joined his team, his boss had caught him crying at his desk after a long day when he thought everyone had gone home. To Dan’s surprise, instead of consoling him, Tom sat down and cried too. 

“It’s hard,” Tom had said once the tears subsided. 

“Yeah,” Dan agreed, and neither had said anything more. 

A mostly-unspoken bond had formed between them then. Their job was difficult, but it went beyond that. Dan knew Tom truly understood his nightmares, his bleak days, his off-color moods. 

As he strolled back to his apartment, Dan told himself if he was struggling tonight he would take Tom up on the offer, but he knew that he probably wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no timetable for this, and I'll probably try to release chapters weekly depending on my schedule. Maybe Tuesdays? Not sure yet. 
> 
> Phil & the Lesters won't be here in person for a few chapters but I promise he'll show up <3 
> 
> Please let me know if you're confused by the magic system at any point! It's an OC fantasy AU.
> 
> Title from "Life and Death" by The Dear Hunter


	2. These Dreams Await the Gray Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan gets introspective & we learn more about the mysterious PM.

Dan couldn’t sleep. 

The full moon shone through the cloudy window just above his bed, illuminating just enough of the room to cast shadows in every corner. Dan couldn’t help but imagine the things that might be lurking in that darkness. Faces of the dead, burned into his mind. Would their ghosts haunt him? Did he even believe in ghosts? He told himself no, but it was easier to believe in the daylight. 

He knew he was being irrational, but he heightened his senses anyway, allowing him to see through the shadows, revealing… nothing, of course. Why would there be anything there? 

But now with the safety of his heightened vision, the room was too bright. 

Dan sighed. He was never going to get any rest. 

Well, he might as well make the most of it. Among the thoughts of ghosts and corpses, worries about PM and Pentland Jewelry were whirling around his head. Would they dare attempt the robbery that night, just after one of their spies was captured? 

But, Dan reasoned, maybe that was the perfect time to rob the store. Strike the guards twice in one day, surprise them. Maybe they had all the information they needed anyway? PM was never one for conventional heists, Dan knew, unfortunately from past experience. 

The paranoia got the best of him and Dan jumped out of bed and threw on his clothes. If he was going to be awake, he might as well be awake and useful. 

The walk to Pentland Jewelry was a short one. The city felt barren without the crowds of people congregating downtown. Only a few people were out and about at that hour of the day, and definitely not the type that Dan wanted to meet, so he hurried. 

Just across the street from the store, Dan crept into a short alleyway. Thankfully, no one else was there, as far as he knew anyway—a PM spy with invisibility would be difficult to spot at night, depending on where they were hiding, even for Dan. With his sixth magic sense, some affinities were loud or bright, like the loud buzz of levitation or the glowing residue of binding. But invisibility made no noise and left only a faint outline of the hidden person. Moving they were easy to spot, but standing still, an invisible person was almost impossible to find. 

Almost impossible, Dan thought, but still doable. He smirked, remembering one of his first cases working for Tom. A Glarer, with invisibility and light, had robbed an industrial building, stolen some cash and some valuable metals. He and PJ had tracked the man and eventually found his house on the outskirts of the city. When they had investigated, there was no one to be found. Until suddenly, using his heightening, Dan had heard the sound of breathing very lightly coming from under the bed. 

They caught him, of course. As soon as he had been spotted, the Glarer had no way to get out. Staying still under the bed probably seemed smart at first, but with a Seeker looking for him, maybe hiding in a place with only one door out wasn’t actually the best choice. 

Even five years later, Dan felt some pride thinking about that case. Who else but a Seeker could have found the man? Someone else with heightened senses could have heard him, but without the sixth magic sense, he could have escaped with his invisibility anyway. It was the first case he worked on that he really felt like a help to the team, the first one that made him shake his rookie anxiety. 

Though he hadn’t really felt the same gratification since. Every case somehow seemed to diverge into one of two categories: ones that he could solve right away using his affinities, or ones that the perp already got away, with no way of being tracked. There were rare few in between that they had enough clues to follow. If the public asked they would never admit it, but the vast majority of cases went cold so soon. 

Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders from behind. He felt a hot breath on his ear as a woman’s quiet voice whispered, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Dan jumped and spun his head, getting a better look at the face. He recognized her as the female guard from earlier. 

She seemed to recognize him at the same time, because she let go of his shoulders. They were immediately sore. Dan rubbed one as he smiled sheepishly to the guard. 

“Sorry, I was just keeping an eye on things down here.” 

The guard gave him an unimpressed look. “You probably should have said something, you know.” 

“Yeah, I probably should have,” Dan agreed as he stepped back to lean against the brick wall. “I didn’t want to bother you.” 

She huffed. “I’m pretty sure coming out here to grab you was more of a bother than if you had knocked on the door and said something.” 

Dan frowned. She was right. He knew they would be looking out for people watching the store, but didn’t think about the fact that he would be spotted just like any spy. And from the alleyway across the street, there was no way they would recognize him. 

God, he needed some sleep. He was never going to get any work done with his mind muddled like this. 

Dan jumped again when the guard snapped her fingers right in front of his face. “Detective Howell?” 

“Dan,” he responded immediately. “It’s Dan. Detective Howell is just so…” He paused. “Stuffy.” 

The guard raised an eyebrow, then held out her hand. “Gloria.” After Dan shook it, she continued. “Well, now that we are on a first-name basis, would you mind letting us know if you’re going to be camping out in the future? Makes our job a little more difficult, you know.” 

Dan chuckled deflatedly. “Yeah, sorry, won’t happen again.” He gave her what he hoped looked like a sincere smile. 

Dan knew she didn’t buy it, but gave him a cordial smile and nod back anyway. “I’m going to go back inside. It might not be safe out here, you know, so if you want, you can come in too. No one will be against having a Seeker on the team for the night. Louise will probably payroll you, if we mentioned it.” 

Dan shook his head. “No thanks, I’ll probably be heading back home soon anyway. I doubt I’m really needed. You seem to have it under control.” 

Gloria shrugged and turned to walk away. “Suit yourself.”

Dan watched her go silently. He considered taking up her offer, just briefly, but he didn’t come out here in the middle of the night so he could have company. 

_”Wouldn’t mind having a Seeker on the team.”_ He knew Gloria wasn’t lying, even if she didn’t know the extent he had worked on PM cases over the years. Though if she did, she might give up and go home right now, because no one in the agency had even come close to figuring out who was behind the heists, let alone actually stopping one. 

Dan sighed and leaned his head against the brick wall. No, all the information they had about PM was the name, taken from the notes they left at the scene of the crime. Information the group had _let_ them have. They were so confident in their ability to pull off whatever robbery they had planned, but if Dan was being honest, they had earned that confidence. 

There was one thing he knew for sure: the ones who actually did the thieving _had_ to have invisibility. Invisibility wasn’t exactly rare, but with ten affinities and each person having only two, finding an entire group of people with it willing and able to pull off the high-stakes robberies was still a feat. Dan had literally been present on location for some of the robberies; on one night, much like tonight, scouts had been caught watching a rich bureaucrat’s mansion. Dan himself sat guard on the night it took place. 

By the time the sun had risen, all the keys had been stolen and the safes cleared. 

Dan held a key that night. Even he—the best equipped to watch for thieves—still managed to let it get taken. The only thing that tipped him off something was wrong was the light _pop_ of someone teleporting nearby, but by the time he heard it, the key was gone, taken directly out of his hand and replaced with a fake. 

That was the night they first found a note. 

_Good effort. Sorry you did all that work for nothing. See you next time! —PM_

That particular heist was four years ago. It was three years ago that the notes had started to mention him by name. 

Dan clenched his fist just thinking about the cheek, the absolute nerve. He had at least fifteen notes sitting in his top desk drawer, more than half of them taunting him personally. At least fifteen instances where he had gone out of his way, no pay for his overtime, to stake out and watch for the robberies taking place. At least fifteen times where PM had managed to rob a place directly under his nose. At least fifteen times that Dan had failed to realize until it was too late. 

_I’ll see you next time, Daniel Howell. We have some great plans next month. Keep an eye out! —PM_

_Daniel Howell, I thought you were a Seeker. Are you quite sure? —PM_

_Daniel, you and Mr. Liguori make quite the team. So why are you wasting your talents on us? —PM_

The last one had infuriatingly included a basic sketch of a face, winking. 

Dan looked up to the sky. It was a rare cloudless night, with a smattering of stars piercing through the blackness and the moon round and full. PM was out here with him tonight, he knew. Whether it was a scout or someone more, someone was watching him. But scanning the rooftops, he found no one. Catching the man that day had probably been a fluke. Dan doubted he would be working for PM much longer. He never knew them to be that sloppy. 

Dan yawned. He was tempted to stay there the rest of the night, but he had work in the morning. If he didn’t get sleep now, he would fall asleep filing paperwork, and God help him if Tom caught him sleeping on the job. 

He gave the surrounding buildings one final sweep with his enhanced eyes, not expecting to actually see anything, so when he saw a tiny shimmer of red light atop the building nearest Pentland Jewelry, he was taken aback. He blinked and rubbed his eyes and when he opened them again, it was gone. 

“Maybe I’m going crazy,” he murmured to himself, but stared at the spot to see if the light would reappear. Then just as suddenly as before, it did. 

Dan increased his sight heightening so far that the light from the stars in the background began to hurt. He squinted to focus and managed to just barely pick out the redness: a vague outline of a person, trailing as the person moved away and fading in less than a second. 

So there was an invisible spy around. Dan wondered how long the person had been there, and if they had seen Gloria. They were in the same location as the scout who had been caught, too; just like PM to be cocky enough to not bother moving. Though this one did have invisibility, so maybe they were actually trying to be more careful.

Dan yawned again, the squinting making his eyes feel heavy with exhaustion. He didn’t know what time it was, but he should take all the sleep he could get. Before leaving, he knocked on the door to Pentland Jewelry to let them know about the scout on the roof next door; Gloria thanked him quietly as he left. Then, coat pulled up against his neck to shelter from the biting wind, Dan walked home, feeling eyes on his back the entire way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phil makes his first appearance next chapter, coming next Tuesday! Be there or be square ;)
> 
> Update will be later this week, traveling so haven’t had much time!
> 
> Chapter title from "Domino the Destitute" by Coheed and Cambria


	3. A Silhouette to Serenade the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan goes out with PJ to the Mucky Duck and there he meets some interesting characters, including one Phil Lester (and some of the rest of the band).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: alcohol

Dan was way too tired, but damn if PJ wasn’t persistent. 

“Fine,” Dan huffed. “Just for a few hours.”

And that was how Dan found himself walking into the Mucky Duck that evening. He couldn’t complain that much really, because it was jazz night, and Dan loved the new kind of music, apparently influenced by a new wave from the United States. Well, if that was the kind of culture the States were bringing over, they could keep it coming. 

The prospect of listening to some music was the only thing that made Dan finally agree to come out with PJ tonight. He would much rather have been in bed already, napping away the last few sleepless nights he had spent in the alley outside of Pentland Jewelry. But live music was too tempting, and as much as he didn’t want to third-wheel for PJ and his wife Sophie, he gave in anyway. Just for a few hours for some good music and maybe a drink. That’s it. Then he could go sleep the weekend away. 

Someone was already playing when he pulled open the heavy wooden door. Immediately a rush of warmer air washed over him, burning his cold cheeks and he shrugged off his heavy coat, hanging it on a coathook. The air smelled of cigarettes and hung thick with smoke, blurring the already dimly-lit hall. 

They wound their way through to an open table closer to the front of the room. The ceiling hung low closer to the door but opened up at the back where the stage was, allowing room for the performers to set up. A small metal pipe ran above their heads, with holes that leaked the low, breathy voice of the singer. As he and PJ sat down, Dan focused his attention to the performer: a shorter woman with fierce red curls singing low into a microphone, a pole that ran to the ceiling pipe. A man nearby had one hand leisurely hanging over part of the pipe; Dan knew that would be the person who had sound, amplifying the singer’s voice to be heard over the instruments. As it was, only a quiet guitar accompanied her. 

Though the rest of the band was obviously still setting up in the background, Dan was drawn to the two performers. The man behind her repeated a triplet pattern, plucking out a hopeful-sounding tune while she sang long, drawn-out words that seemed to bounce over the flitting guitar. 

_Too slow…_

_…Were my senses…_

_…Muted musings…_

Dan sat down to claim the table while PJ headed to the bar. On stage, the rest of the band continued to set up; a tall, black-haired man brought a stool on stage while a slightly shorter brunet lugged a huge upright bass. Surprisingly, he sat down and after a few moments, joined in, plucking the strings testily a few times before adding a bouncy note every downbeat. 

_...Only silence remained…_

_…Holding my breath in the dark…_

Dan closed his eyes and tilted his head back, already feeling the music lighten his spirits. After just a few seconds, someone joined in on piano, following the same arpeggios as the guitar. 

_...Gasping for air…_

_…With the lungs of a lark…_

The singer’s voice was phenomenal, just light enough but still full of emotion, and with a slight accent Dan couldn’t seem to place. The band must be almost done setting up, he figured, as he heard another instrument join in: this time a high, sweet violin. 

_...Tell me, just how did you save me?..._

A light thud let him know PJ had returned with the drinks. “Enjoying yourself there Danny boy?”

Dan opened his eyes, only a little embarrassed. “Been a while since I heard live music.”

PJ snorted. “Yeah, I know, ‘cause you never want to come out with me and Soph.” 

Dan rolled his eyes, but it was true. “Where is she, anyway?” he asked, trying to pull the subject away from his recent social isolation. 

“She’ll be here in a few. Professor Warwick has been making her stay late.” 

Dan frowned in sympathy. Sophie was a fantastic scholar and had fought tooth and nail to earn a position at London University, but that didn’t mean people would stop wanting to get in her way. Being a woman in academia… Dan couldn’t even imagine what she put up with day-to-day from the students, not to mention the professor she was training under didn’t think very highly of women in general. 

Sophie was brilliant, so that was all bullshit and they knew it. Suddenly Dan felt a little guilty at neglecting his friend the last few months. If anyone deserved a few drinks on a Friday night, it was probably her. 

“Hey,” PJ interrupted his thoughts. “Warwick’s just been having a rough go at her lately, that’s all. She’s not mad at you for not coming out.”

Trust PJ to be able to practically read his thoughts. “Maybe I should come out more often, though. You’re right, I always enjoy it,” Dan admitted. 

PJ shot him a wide smile. Dan grabbed one of the three mugs on the table—all beer, the cheap kind—and gulped some down. It smelled skunky and was a little bitter going down his throat, but he didn’t mind, because he could feel the low burn of the alcohol. 

Did anyone actually drink beer for the taste? Some people had tried to convince Dan they actually liked the stuff, but he didn’t believe them. He liked wine a lot better, but cheap wine was still more expensive than cheap beer and… Well, wine was a bit _too_ easy to drink, and he was only here to loosen up a little.

_...but these walls…_

_...are…_

_...coming…_

_...down…_

The song quietly faded out and there was a break in the music where there was only the shuffling of feet and quiet hum of the bar’s patrons in the background. Dan watched as several players brought their instruments on stage while the same tall, black-haired man brought out stools and music stands. He moved around lithely, seemingly knowing where everything was, and Dan realized this band had probably been set up here for at least a few weeks. He winced internally; just a few months ago, he could tell anyone who asked every band that played at the Mucky Duck regularly. 

The black-haired man turned around and met his eyes, and Dan realized he had been staring, lost in his thoughts. Despite the haze, the man’s bright eyes seemed to bore into him from across the stage, and Dan flushed, looking away. He only looked back when he could feel his gaze move on, and while the band finished setting up, Dan made sure not to look his way. 

He had spaced out staring at people before, obviously. Being lost in his head was practically Dan’s modus operandi. It didn’t stop him from being extremely embarrassed every time. 

But then the singer was speaking, and Dan took another gulp of his beer, welcoming the distraction. 

“Thanks for being patient while we set up,” she said, her voice sweet and breathy. “You might know us already, but I’m Cornelia and behind me is the Aberdeen Suite.” The other patrons gave quiet applause as she left the microphone and began talking with the guitar player.

Dan turned to PJ. “Have you heard these guys before?”

PJ nodded. “Yeah, they’re really good, actually. They’ve been playing here for about a month, I think.” 

Suddenly the piano started and the room quieted, letting through a melancholic melody. Cornelia, back at the microphone, began to sing. 

_She had the summer’s smile with winter’s skin…_

Dan drank in the new song, mood still improving despite the bittersweet sound of the music. He took in the rest of the band, now set up with a few brass instruments and what Dan recognized to be some saxophones, all waiting patiently for their time to come in. He realized, somewhat relieved, that the man he had accidentally been staring at wasn’t one of the players.

_...She moved…_

Dan felt eyes on him and he instinctively looked around. Just off to the side of the stage, practically hidden behind a curtain, was the vague outline of a person, seemingly looking his way. 

_...A silhouette to serenade the soul…_

Dan increased his eyesight and realized, embarrassingly, it was the man who had caught him staring. Dan could feel his blush deepen but this time he didn’t look away, but rather looked even closer, meeting the gaze of his bright blue eyes evenly. 

After a second the man’s eyes went wide: he knew he had been caught. Suddenly, he vanished completely. 

Invisibility, Dan thought, smirking. Well, the shoe was on the other foot now. They were even, both equally embarrassed. He doubted Mr. Invisible over there could have known Dan had sense heightening and probably thought his hiding spot in the dark by the curtain was safe. 

Dan noted that he hadn’t seen any traces of the invisible man and his smirk grew to a full-on smile when he realized that meant the invisible man was still there—if he had moved, Dan would have seen the colorful traces of the outline following him, thanks to his magic sense. He didn’t look away, staring down that seemingly-empty space, and after a few seconds he saw a slight distortion in the air. It was gone in an instant, but Dan had enough experience to know what it looked like when someone was teleporting away. It was very subtle and left no traces other than the slight warp and a tiny popping noise he couldn’t hear over the music, but knew was there.

So Mr. Invisible had teleportation too. A Flitter, then. Such a slippery combination. But Dan had won their little… whatever that was, so he was content. Being a Seeker had its uses. 

He shoved down any other thoughts he had about the invisible man’s blue eyes and why he might have been staring, washing them away with more beer. He was here to enjoy the music, damn it, not delve into years-old existential crises. 

_...She danced to the doors…_

The music had picked up now and more players had joined in. Dan closed his eyes again and relaxed into it. 

_...“What’s your name?”..._

_...Conceding, “Ms. Leading”..._

After a few minutes he heard a loud thud and turned to see Sophie plonking herself down into the chair between he and PJ. She grabbed the mug of beer and chugged almost half of it immediately. 

Dan laughed. “That bad, huh?” 

Sophie just grimaced and ran a hand through her tousled brown curls. “Yeah, honestly.” 

PJ pulled her into a hug which she gratefully leaned into. She didn’t seem to want to elaborate more, so Dan gave her a sympathetic smile and returned his attention to the music. 

Suddenly someone behind him cleared their throat. “Um, sir?” 

Dan spun around in his chair. A short woman in a half-apron and a notepad stood there. Did PJ not pay for their drinks? He gave PJ a quick glance, but he just shrugged. 

“Uh, yeah, hi?” Dan asked the bartender.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She smiled apologetically. “Someone’s offered you a drink on their tab, your choice. Told me to tell you he says ‘sorry, hope you enjoy the music’.” 

Dan glanced around the room quickly but didn’t catch sight of Mr. Invisible. This was turning into one of the strangest interactions he ever had, and he hadn’t even talked to the guy. “A drink,” he said, unsure. 

The bartender chuckled. “Yes, sir, a drink. Whatever you choose. Want more of that?” She motioned to the nearly empty mug next to him on the table. 

Dan thought about it, but frowned. If he wasn’t going to pay for it, he sure as shit wasn’t going to get more beer. 

“Uh, no, actually. Red wine? Something mid-range,” Dan said. “Don’t want him to, uh, break the bank, I guess.” God, this was so awkward. Didn’t people usually just send drinks, not send the bartender to take the order? 

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” the bartender said with a laugh, “though between you and me, I don’t think that’s really an issue.” She winked and walked back to the bar. 

He turned around to see PJ and Sophie giving him strange looks. “I honestly have no idea what’s going on,” Dan said, shrugging, only lying a little bit. He was pretty sure it was Mr. Invisible who sent him the drink, but beyond that, he really had no idea. 

Was this how women felt when random guys sent them drinks from across the room? Dan had never done it himself but had seen people do it plenty. He had only seen a man receive a drink once, after some kind of accidental insult. He didn’t feel insulted by their weird interaction, but still Mr. Invisible had sent him a drink. It made his stomach twist a little. 

No, he reaffirmed, he was _not_ thinking about this today. He pinched his thigh through his trousers. He had plenty of time to get existential at home. Right now, he was going to enjoy the music and the company of his friends, God damn it. 

The bartender returned with the wine and the next hour or so passed without incident. None of them made too much conversation, for which Dan was grateful—Cornelia and the Aberdeen Suite were _really_ good. He sipped on his wine and swayed lightly to the rhythms, letting Cornelia’s light, lilting voice override his thoughts. 

Dan was more than a little disappointed when she eventually announced their final song. He wasn’t even really tired anymore. 

When they finished, PJ tapped on Dan’s shoulder. “We’re gonna head out. See you Monday?” he asked. 

Dan snorted. “Assuming PM doesn’t make a break for it over the weekend, then yeah. Monday.” 

“Thanks for coming out, Dan,” Sophie said, then yawned. 

It made Dan yawn too, and some of the exhaustion came flooding back to him. “You guys gonna come out next week?” 

PJ looked surprised for a moment, then smiled. “Yeah, probably.” 

They said their goodbyes and Dan almost followed them out the door, but had a sudden urge to wait and ask a band member if they would even be here next Friday. He looked back up to the stage where the band was breaking down the set. His eyes were drawn off to the side where he noticed Mr. Invisible again, talking to the guitar player. Almost on instinct, he heightened his hearing, allowing his ears to pick up on the conversation. 

“...so you bought him a drink?” The guitar player was saying. 

Dan blushed, looking away quickly and staring at his now-empty wine glass, but still listening. He realized he was eavesdropping, on a conversation about himself of all things, but he couldn’t resist. 

“Yeah,” Mr. Invisible said. “Just felt like I should.” His voice was deeper than Dan expected. 

A laugh. “Really Phil? You didn’t think that would draw even more attention?” the guitar player asked. 

Dan tried to hear Mr. Invisible’s—Phil’s—reply but the people at the next table over started laughing loudly, drowning them out. As they died down, Dan risked looking over to Phil and the guitar player again, only to find them both already looking his way. 

Shit. Did they know he was listening? He turned away again, sure he was completely red, then realized that made him look even more guilty. 

“...has heightening, obviously…” Phil’s voice filtered through again as it quieted down. 

Welp, he was caught. He could get up and leave now, but somehow that seemed even more embarrassing than just confronting it. So instead, he slowly turned back to the corner the pair stood in where they were still looking in his direction. He shrugged sheepishly and mouthed ‘sorry’ as clearly as he could. 

The guitar player started laughing while Phil turned completely red. Dan couldn’t help it—he started laughing too. Somehow, his embarrassment from being caught evesdropping was offset by having caught Phil in the act of talking about him to begin with. 

They were caught in some kind of weird social game, and Dan wasn’t really sure how it worked, but he thought he might be winning.

The guitar player recovered from his laughing fit and began in Dan’s direction, Phil trailing behind, still beet red. 

Dan stood and started apologizing as soon as they were in earshot. “Sorry, sorry, I really didn’t mean it, it’s just kind of second nature—”

“You’re fine,” the guitar player chuckled. He tipped his head to the side, motioning towards Phil. “He was just telling me about your… interaction?” He laughed again. “Not really sure what to call it.” 

Dan laughed too. “Honestly? Me neither.” He held out his hand. “Dan.” 

The guitar player shook it heartily. “Martyn. This is Phil.” 

Dan held his hand out to Phil too, and the black-haired man shook it hesitantly. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, seemingly unable to think of what to say. “Sorry,” he eventually said. 

“Don’t be,” Dan said immediately. “I started it, technically. Though for the record,” he clarified, “I wasn’t staring, I just got lost in my thoughts in your general direction.” 

Phil smiled, looking a little more relaxed. “Hope you’re not offended I—” He cut off and gestured to the wine glass on the table. “Just felt like I, I don’t know…” 

“Like you lost, or something?” Dan prompted. 

Phil nodded his head. “Yeah. Honestly, I have no idea what even happened, but I felt like I owed you one, or something?” He furrowed his brow. “I don’t know, it was weird.” 

“Yeah, but I get what you mean, somehow,” Dan agreed. Now that he could see Phil up-close, he realized that he really was pretty tall, almost able to match his own height. 

Phil looked visibly relieved and smiled brightly at Dan. “Okay, thank God. I thought I looked like a total weirdo.” 

“You always look like a weirdo,” Martyn countered. 

Phil rolled his eyes and shoved Martyn with his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Infighting amongst the band,” Dan tutted. “Not looking good for the future.” 

“He’s my brother, so it doesn’t count,” Martyn explained. 

“Ah,” Dan said. He could see the resemblance now that he mentioned it. “Well, speaking of the future, I was just wondering if you guys would be playing here next week?” 

They nodded in unison, and Phil explained, “Every Friday, most Wednesdays too.”

“Did you enjoy the show?” Martyn asked. 

Dan nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah.”

Martyn beamed. Suddenly, a voice called his name from just off stage. The brunet bass player was gesturing for them to come over. 

“Sorry, Adam beckons. We should go finish take-down,” Martyn explained. “Good to meet you, Dan.” 

“Yeah, good to meet you… Dan.” Phil said his name carefully. He gave Dan a sheepish smile and wave, turning away to follow Martyn. 

***

Dan made it all the way home and collapsed on his bed before even letting himself think about what had happened at the Mucky Duck. 

“What the hell?” he said to himself aloud. “Literally, what the hell.” He chuckled a little in disbelief. It was definitely the weirdest night he had in a long time.

Something was niggling the back of Dan’s brain, a part of him that he had repressed for so long, something he swore he would never let see the light of day. Something about Phil’s blue eyes, about his red embarrassed face when Dan had caught him. Something about how Phil felt the need to hide so completely when Dan caught him staring. That he had even been staring to begin with.

But tonight Dan’s tiredness won out. His eyes grew heavy and he crawled under the covers, shoving his face into the pillow. 

For the first time in a while, as he drifted off to sleep, Dan realized he couldn’t wait for next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my AU so if I want my jazz band to play modern prog rock songs, then I'm gonna. :) Though I promise nothing I include as canon in this AU will sound too out of place. If anyone is curious, the song Cornelia is singing at the start of the chapter is "Melpomene" and when Dan sees Phil it is "The Bitter Suite I & II: Meeting Ms. Leading and Through the Dime" (lengthy title I know lol, also that's where the chapter title is taken from) both by a band called The Dear Hunter. They're my fav band, you should go check 'em out, if you want. The cheesy chapter titles are mostly taken from their music, with some exceptions. 
> 
> Also, there will be youtuber mentions everywhere, even if they aren't necessarily main characters, because I am unoriginal AF and need to draw inspiration from somewhere. The bassist is actually Adam Neely, which I feel the need to mention it now because the name of the band is based loosely on the band he often works with, Aberdeen.


	4. A Phantom Staring Back at Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and PJ investigate a case and find something a little unnerving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mention of death, outing of a closeted character (kind of)

Dan spent the weekend mostly outside Pentland Jewelry or doing paperwork but definitely not thinking about any thing or person in particular, thank you very much.

Dan knew he had things he needed to consider. Things he wouldn’t have dared dredge out of their places at the back of his subconscious any other time. As it was, he could feel the dam holding back another mental break about to burst. 

At the start of the evening Friday, Dan felt good. The kind of good, hopeful feeling that he got when he was on his way out of a down period. The winter months were difficult, and even faced with another unsolvable PM case and more haunting memories to add to his collection, spring had him on an upward trajectory to make his way back to normalcy. 

But when he woke up the next morning, he could already feel the tugging from below, threatening to yank him down into the depths again. 

Dan could try and cut the binds that dragged him down, but that would take time, so much time. So long he was scared to even try, if he could even do it at all. He’d tried last time, really, truly tried. He just came out even more tangled than before.

So he was grateful for the distraction when he came in to the office on Tuesday to find a new folder on his desk. 

“Charles Smith,” Dan read aloud. PJ wasn’t there yet, but Tom’s door was open, so Dan walked over and knocked before continuing. “Who’s Charles Smith?” 

Tom looked up from the paperwork on his desk. “He’s our man from last week. Local police actually managed to find the family. You and PJ are going to go talk to them today.” The look on Dan’s face must have said enough because he continued, “Don’t worry, they have already been told about his passing. You’re not going to break any news, you’re going to see if you can figure out a motive.” 

“And they’re okay with that?” Dan asked, a little surprised. Most victims’ families didn’t want to get involved or talk about it more than need be. 

Tom nodded. “They seemed keen on knowing why it happened. Once PJ gets here you can both go. The address is in the folder.” 

Suddenly, the telephone in Tom’s office began to ring, a shrill noise that hurt Dan’s ears. Dan gave Tom a small wave before returning to his desk, giving his boss some privacy for the call. 

Dan skimmed through the folder. Charles Smith, 26, a Wraither, with heat and invisibility. So Dan was right about the melted cufflinks: it was the victim, melting them in his final moments. A massive burst of power, fueled by adrenaline, was so common before death that it even had a name: a climacteric. Heat was the most dangerous climacteric, something Dan knew intimately. 

Well, that definitely wasn’t the train of thought he wanted to go down. He flipped the page. 

A thought struck him then—if the victim’s climacteric radiated enough heat to melt the cufflinks, and there were no other bodies, it was likely one of the attackers had heat too. Without someone else there to nullify it, the attackers would have all at least been very injured.

Dan flipped open his small black notepad and wrote that down “attackers with heat + sound”. It could have been one attacker with both—an Overwhelmer—but Dan seriously doubted that one person could have committed something like this, so it was more likely they would be looking for multiple people. It wasn’t much information, but it was a start. 

It also made the idea of premeditation seem much more likely. Those with heat were known for their dangerous climacterics, so if someone wanted one killed, they would need to bring someone else with heat to avoid getting injured themselves. It could still definitely be a group of muggers who happen to have someone with heat on the team, but with the way the corpse was found… Dan found it extremely unlikely random thugs would take that sort of time to torture or mutilate. And if they knew who the victim was, they might know he was a Wraither with heat, and made sure they had someone to protect themselves. 

The door swung open then and PJ entered, dragging Dan from his thoughts. The tired-looking man walked towards his desk, but Dan stopped him. 

“Don’t bother. We’re heading out.” 

PJ looked surprised, and Dan relayed the information about Charles Smith, giving him the folder to look through. The news that the victim had been identified seemed to shake PJ from his sleepiness. 

“The address is pretty far,” PJ noted. “I’ll get us a taxicab.”

Soon they were on their way to the outskirts of London to a location about an hour away: a residential area, with lots of tiny houses cramped together. The cab jostled over the cobblestones and Dan tried to look out the window to fight off the unsettled feeling in his stomach. 

The cab pulled up to a small brick cottage-style house and the cab driver let them know this was the place. Dan paid the fare and then there they were, knocking on the heavy wooden door. 

A grey-haired woman pulled open the door a few seconds later. “Hello?” Her face was stoic but the redness in her eyes betrayed her.

Dan held up a hand in a slight, awkward wave. “Hello, ma’am. We’re the detectives looking into the death of Charles Smith. Is this a good time?” 

The woman’s soft features formed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’ve been expecting you. Come on in.” 

Dan and PJ walked inside, following the woman through the house; it was small, Dan noted, but not cramped. Instead it seemed cozy and inviting, with blankets strewn over the settee and cushioned chairs. A small fire burned in the fireplace as they all sat down. 

A tall man strode into the room, immediately headed for the woman: her husband, Dan assumed. 

“The detectives,” the woman murmured, nodding towards them as the man kissed her on the cheek. 

The man held out his hand, which Dan and PJ shook. “Arthur Smith,” he began, “and my wife Sarah. Charlie is—was,” he corrected with a careful tone, “our son.” 

“It’s very nice to meet you both, though I wish it were under better circumstances,” PJ offered. 

PJ began asking the basic questions: how well did they know their son? What was he like? Do they have any sort of wealth? 

Dan wrote down their answers in his notebook absentmindedly. He was interested in the case, obviously, and he wanted to investigate further, but as he wrote, something nagged at him. Something was… off, in this room or just the house. He scanned the pair sitting across from him: Sarah looked like a kind woman, with smile lines and crinkles in the corners of her eyes. Arthur was a large man, with a grey-and-white whiskered face that showed the same kind of compassion as his wife. They were sad talking about their late son—well of course they were—but Dan could easily imagine them sitting there in the cozy house, laughing over tea. 

No, the couple seemed fine. Still, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Was this a trap?

A flash. Nothing more than a blip of color, just visible at the side of the hallway, a deep blue that faded in less than a second. 

Dan was startled out of his thoughts. Was there someone there? 

He stood abruptly and dropped the notebook into PJ’s lap. “Um,” he started as they all looked up at him, confused. “Could you point me to the john?” 

“Down the hall, two doors down on the left,” Sarah said, and Dan practically bolted out of the room. 

He paused in the hallway and heightened all of his senses, aware the trio in the living room would likely hear him stop and hoping they would wave away his eccentricities. There was someone in the house. Someone watching them. That was the off feeling he had before, he knew it now with certainty. 

_Pop._

There. Dan felt the air fold inwards, creating a momentary pressure vacuum as the person in the hallway teleported away. He heard the distinctive popping noise, only about a meter away. He pinpointed the location, and spied a few traces of blue that faded quickly from where the man had been. 

If Dan was a Flitter, where would he hide?

Dan increased his heightening further, trying to ignore the sounds from the other room. The dim light filtering through the high window illuminated the hallway, but not enough to be blinding as he heightened his vision. Thankfully, only two doors were open: the one he just came through, and one more, leading to what looked like the kitchen. 

Dan stood still as possible and stared into the seemingly empty space in front of him. He thought about going into the kitchen, but that seemed wrong. He had dealt with Flitters before, mostly with PM cases. He knew they liked to hide in plain sight, and besides, the Flitter would likely have had to teleport multiple times to make it to the kitchen from where he had been standing—teleportation only worked in someone’s line of sight. But he hadn’t heard or felt the Flitter teleport again. So instead, he peered into the hallway, trying to find those small lines of distortion he knew should be there, hoping but doubting the person would accidentally move and give away their position. His ears picked up a tiny, shaky breath.

_There._

The outline of the Flitter seemed obvious as soon as Dan saw it. The person was standing still as a statue up against the wall, not two meters in front of Dan, facing towards the open kitchen door. In fact the outline almost seemed familiar… Had Dan seen this person before?

Just a few milliseconds after Dan’s eyes locked on the person realized they had been caught. Abandoning all discretion, they teleported away. 

Dan surged forward, dashing into the kitchen. Another pop. Dan almost crashed into the dining table when he saw the clear, bright outline moving, having given up pretense. 

The Flitter was pulling open a door. A door that led outside. 

“No!” Dan gasped and ran to the door. In the back of the house was an open field, with no sign of the Flitter. 

An open field. Unlimited line of sight, and teleportation was much faster than he could run. Even if Dan could find the Flitter, he’d never be able to catch them. 

“Fuck.” 

A few minutes later and Dan rejoined the group. He nodded politely and sat down, completely intending to not bring up the Flitter until he and PJ were alone. 

Sarah didn’t seem to get the memo. “Um, Detective Howell, was it? Was something wrong?” 

Dan took in a deep breath. He hadn’t planned on telling them but now that she asked, it seemed unfair to keep it from them. The Flitter was found in their house, after all.

“There was… someone,” he began. The Smiths’ faces showed utter shock as he continued. “A Flitter, watching from the hallway. I’m a Seeker and I saw the traces. They escaped through the door in the kitchen once they realized they were caught.” 

“Someone was watching us?” Sarah said. “What?”

Dan shrugged. “Watching you two, watching me and PJ—I’m not sure. I can’t think of why they would be here, unless they wanted information about Charles.” 

“Do you think it was…” Arthur asked.

“Possibly,” Dan said. “Uh, probably.” 

“Arthur, they know where we live,” Sarah said, starting to cry. “We can’t stay.” 

PJ held his hands out, trying to soothe the woman. “Ma’am, we can get you some protection. We’ll talk to the local police, and we have some connections to bodyguard services too. Do you have anywhere else to stay?”

Arthur nodded. “We have some friends we could stay with, for now.” 

PJ nodded in return. “If you ever feel unsafe, you can come to London, and we can get you somewhere to stay that’s closer, too. We’ll do what we can, don’t worry.” 

“Do you have a telephone?” Dan asked. 

Sarah shook her head and sniffled. “There’s one not far away, though, at the police station. But before you go,” she paused, wiping tears from her eyes, “we should mention one last thing.” 

Arthur looked at his wife in surprise and opened his mouth to speak, but she shushed him. Dan and PJ shared a look. 

“Charlie was in with a… different kind of crowd,” Sarah began. Dan raised an eyebrow, and she continued. “I don’t know much, because he was sensitive about it, he didn’t talk about it much. But we are almost certain he was a…” She winced. “Sorry, I don’t really know how to talk about this. He called himself a ‘fairy’.”

Dan winced the moment he heard the word. 

Arthur picked up on that, misinterpreting his response, and rose from his seat. “Detective, we love our son, and nothing he did could change that. If you dismiss this case because—”

“No, no!” Dan interrupted. “That’s not it at all. We will do everything we can to find out the reason behind this. It’s just not a word you hear someone calling themselves too often. I was just surprised. Sorry.”

Arthur sat back down, relieved but still wary. 

Sarah patted him on the shoulder. “I know he had some friends in the city, some friends like him. He talked about it a few times. That’s why he moved there to begin with. I don’t know anything else, though. Actually,” she shook her head a little, perking up, “that’s not true. We know a name.” 

“A name?” PJ repeated. “A friend of his?”

Sarah nodded. “Someone named Tyler. Tyler Oak-something. Oakland? No, that’s not right…” She trailed off and her face scrunched up in thought. “He might have some old letters in his room, from before he moved out. Let me see if I can find them.” 

A tense few minutes passed as Dan and PJ sat there in front of a defensive Arthur, obviously still not over the idea that they might judge his son for his lifestyle. Dan almost wished he could muster up the courage to explain just how wrong the older man was. He breathed a sigh of relief when Sarah returned, waving a piece of paper triumphantly. 

“Tyler Oakley,” she said. “The name is Tyler Oakley. O-A-K-L-E-Y.” 

PJ wrote it down in Dan’s notebook, still holding it from when Dan had fled the room. 

“We don’t know much about any of his friends and all the letters are brief, but maybe this will lead you somewhere. There’s no address, unfortunately. I think he burned the envelopes.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” PJ said. “This information will be useful. We will let you know what we find, if we do find something. And we will get in contact with the local police and some security before we head back,” he assured them.

As they left the Smiths’ house, the couple stood outside the door, watching them go. Sarah waved as the cab took them away towards the police station, a sad, haunted look in her eyes. 

***

Tom confronted them the moment they walked in the office door. “Tell me everything.” 

Dan explained the Flitter listening in on the investigation and the information Sarah told them.

“It’s a damn shame they got away,” Tom said when he was finished. “Would be really nice to know why someone was listening in on this case of all things.” 

Dan nodded. “I was thinking about it on the way back here. Why could they possibly have an interest in the case?”

“It definitely seems like premeditation now,” PJ said. “Someone’s interested. If it was random, no one would care.” 

“Definitely,” Tom agreed. “I think we can say that’s a given now.” 

Dan nodded slowly. Something was slowly connecting in his mind, two puzzle pieces that seemed unconnected before. “Hear me out,” he began, and Tom frowned in confusion. “Just, hear me out. What if it’s PM?”

PJ cocked his head. “Why would PM be interested in this? They don’t kill people, last I recalled.” 

“I know,” Dan said. “But a Flitter followed us all the way from central London. A Flitter. With invisibility. PM has at least a handful of Flitters.” 

Tom crossed his arms. “There's only ten affinities. One in five people has invisibility, Dan. One in forty-five is a Flitter. I don’t think that’s significant enough.” 

Dan sighed, trying to grasp the threads of reason twisting around in his head. “But listen. What if they were following me and Peej? What if it has nothing to do with Charles Smith?” 

PJ frowned. “So you think PM was following us in case our investigation was about them?”

Dan pointed to his desk and the handful of notes sitting on top. “We have been on their case for years now. They’re about to pull another heist. They know us by name and they know we’re investigating them. Makes sense to me.” 

A moment passed where Tom and PJ considered what he said. Eventually, Tom spoke. “I think you’re paranoid. But—” he continued when Dan tried to protest, “I think you have reason to be paranoid. I don’t think it’s crazy. But I don’t think it’s all that likely either.” 

Dan could settle for that. PJ gave Tom the notebook for him to look over, and Dan spent the rest of the afternoon filling out the relevant paperwork. 

And the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that PM was watching them. Maybe he really was paranoid, but who else would it be? His hand found the pile of notes and read the most recent one, from January, just a few months prior. 

_Daniel, this is getting quite annoying. Surely you should know by now there’s nothing you can do? —PM_

That was it. They were tired of his interference. Suddenly, PM seemed a lot more terrifying. 

What if they had killed Charles Smith? Tortured and mutilated him before leaving him to rot in a dark alleyway?

And if they had, what would they do to Dan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided there's no update schedule because I suck at schedules but trust that it will be updated once every few weeks, no less than once a month. :)
> 
> Chapter title from "Is There Anybody Here?" by The Dear Hunter


	5. Two Left Feet on the Floor in a Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan fumbles and accidentally admits something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is set in the mid 1920s. Of course, 100 years ago the language used to discuss sexuality was much, much different than today. I'm going to try and tackle this by using mostly historically-accurate terms without using slurs and using what the characters self-identify as. I've done some research into specifically what queer folks called themselves back in the day and will be mostly referring to them using those terms. Ofc it's difficult because it's written using modern-day language so I'll end up drawing on that a bit too--specifically the word "gay" wasn't that common in the 1920s but due to limitations I will be using that here a bit. This fic will be inclusive and welcoming in the long run I promise, there's just gonna be a bit of identity angst and internalized homophobia on Dan's part for a while <3

The end of the week rolled around and they couldn't find any information about the man named Tyler Oakley.

Dan and PJ spent hours poring over records of all different kinds—housing, police reports, purchase histories—and found plenty of Oakleys, but no Tylers. To say Dan was frustrated was an understatement. He never exactly liked the part of his job that was all paperwork and folder-filing, and to come out empty-handed by Friday afternoon put a sour taste in his mouth. 

It didn’t help that he kept looking over his shoulder every other minute. But who could blame him for being paranoid, really? Though he hadn’t seen any signs of a shadow since that Tuesday at the Smiths’ house, he hadn’t managed to shake the feeling of being watched. He kept his hearing heightened, just in case.

“Dan,” PJ said pointedly, pulling him out of his thoughts. He realized he was staring out the small window of the library room they were sat in, not for the first time that day.

Dan decides to ignore the tone in PJ’s voice, instead looking to the clock. It read 5:45. “What do we have left?” 

PJ rifled through the folders laid out on the table in front of them. He looked just as worn as Dan felt. “Police reports from two years ago, some mortgage payments, immigration records. The rest of these we’ve already looked through, I think.” 

For a long moment, they both stared at the remaining folders. “Monday?” Dan suggested.

“Monday,” PJ agreed. 

They quickly tidied up, organizing the folders into boxes and marking them as ‘read’ or ‘unread’ respectively. As they left, Dan turned off the electric light—a bit dimmer and more inconsistent than PJ’s light, but making it easier for PJ to focus on the work—put on his coat, locked the door with the key borrowed from the librarian, and followed PJ out. 

It was surprisingly warm and Dan took off his coat again almost as soon as he stepped outside. Being spring, earlier that morning it had been cold enough to warrant the heavier layers, but the sun was properly out now and it felt suffocating. The change in weather was just a reminder of how long they had spent cooped up staring at paper.

Dan instinctively scanned the area outside of the library. There were lots of people out and about, but Dan tried to ignore the hustle and bustle. Instead, he looked for anyone standing too still, anyone poking their heads out of the many alleyways, anyone with their eyes turned towards them. 

At this point, Dan wasn’t sure if the feeling of being watched was legitimate or just part of his paranoia. He didn’t see anyone suspicious, of course. He wasn’t really expecting to, and besides, if they did still have someone tailing them, it could be the same Flitter from before. Finding an invisible person wasn’t too difficult if Dan knew where to look, but on the open street at the busiest time of day, there was no way he would see an invisible person unless they were blatantly moving around. 

Dan felt relieved but also maybe a little disappointed. Being followed, the constant game of cat and mouse, left him feeling constantly on edge, like he was anticipating something he wasn’t sure would even come. He wanted legitimate, solid proof, something he could handle, a problem he could solve. Until then, he was stuck in limbo, held like a puppet on a string.

Dan shivered. He just tried not to think about what might happen if he was right about PM’s intentions. 

“See anything?” PJ asked. He might be skeptical about it, but Dan knew he was still worried about the whole thing. In their five years working together, they had gotten into plenty of dangerous situations, but they’d definitely never been _stalked_ before. 

“Nothing.” Then, before he could let himself think about it, he asked, “Mucky Duck?”

“Yeah, definitely,” PJ agreed, and Dan was glad he didn’t ask about his sudden re-interest in the place. “Told Soph I’d meet her there and honestly, if there’s any day I need a drink, it’s today.” 

Dan couldn’t disagree with that. 

They opted to walk the forty-five minutes there. Dan kept a lookout the entire way, still definitely uncomfortable. Long shadows, cast from the tall buildings, obscured most of the street. As they walked, the crowds thinned with the setting sun, and Dan had to heighten his vision to see people’s features over the twilight gloom. He wanted to know if a single person so much as looked their way.

As they reached the Mucky Duck PJ made a sweeping gesture, using his affinity to pull open the door from afar. As he walked in, though, Dan didn’t follow, instead taking one final look around the building. 

“Coming?” PJ asked from in the doorway. 

“In a minute.” 

PJ shrugged but waited, still holding the door open. 

The sun was fully set now, casting darkness over the entire street. The other buildings surrounding the Mucky Duck were small and squat, forming lots of narrow alleyways between them. Perfect for hiding. Sometimes it felt like London was one big maze. 

So Dan was completely taken aback when he actually did see something. A blue outline, the exact same shade as the Flitter from Tuesday at the Smiths’. It framed someone walking out of an alleyway just to his left, before disappearing again quickly. 

“Holy shit,” Dan said, and took off running. 

Just as he expected, the alleyway was already empty.

“What?” PJ appeared behind him, voice tense. 

“I saw them. The Flitter. It has to be them. They were right here,” Dan motioned to where he stood, “outline clear as day, then they bolted. Must have thought we went inside. It’s the same color and everything. It’s either the same guy or a huge coincidence.” 

“Oh my God,” PJ said, his face blank with shock. “What… what should we even do?”

“I…” Dan faltered. What could they do? The person was definitely gone by now. Dan spent so much time worrying about whether or not they were being followed that he hadn’t thought about what to actually do with that information. “I guess we just… go inside? Probably, uh, safer in there. We’ll just have to watch the door. And we can see if they have a telephone, though I doubt Tom’s still at the office.”

PJ shrugged helplessly. “Yeah, I guess.” 

So they walked into the Mucky Duck. Dan was uncomfortable, but if the Flitter came back, it would be much easier to find them inside instead of on the street. PJ went to the bar to inquire about a telephone and get them drinks while Dan looked around the room for an empty table. Instead, he found Sophie already there, so sat down with her. 

He sighed as he plonked into the chair. He came here to relax, but he already knew he wouldn’t be able to let his guard down. 

“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked. Straight and to-the-point. Dan loved her for that.

“PJ told you about what happened on Tuesday?” Dan asked.

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Well there’s been an update,” Dan began. “Literally just now. I caught them watching us walk over here.” 

Sophie gaped. “What the Hell?”

Dan shrugged in exasperation. “Good fucking question.” 

PJ sat down then, holding two beers. “Tom wasn’t in.” 

“So what’s gonna happen now?” Sophie asked. “What does this mean? Has this guy been following you all week? Longer?” 

“We don’t know,” PJ said. “Hard to find out when you can’t even see the guy.” 

“I know it’s probably the same person because it’s the same colour. I mean, it could be another Flitter with an interest in following us who happens to also be dark blue, but,” Dan shrugged, “definitely not likely.”

“And do you think’s it’s PM?” Sophie asked.

Dan nodded his head slowly. “I think… I think it has to be. Who else?” He took a long swig of the beer. “I don’t have any proof, but it just seems right.”

PJ shrugged. “And to top it all off, we still can’t find the Oakley guy.” 

The conversation trailed off as the band began to play. Dan and PJ had gotten there late enough that they were done with set-up already, to Dan’s slight disappointment. Was he going to see the brothers he talked to last week? The band kicked off with a different song than they started with the previous week. Dan regarded the stage; Cornelia singing in the front, eyes closed as she reached the higher notes, the rest of the Aberdeen Suite spread out behind her. Strangely, the guitar player, Martyn, was not there, and Dan hadn’t seen Phil at all since he walked in. Not that he was looking, of course. 

Dan was still on edge with all his senses heightened, and he felt the footsteps vibrating through the floor behind him before he heard them. He spun around abruptly and found Phil standing there, looking surprised at Dan’s erratic movements but not nearly as sheepish as the previous week, holding two glasses of red wine. His eyes shone brightly behind his glasses even in the dim light, Dan noticed. 

“Hi,” he said, smiling. “Mind if I sit?”

Dan nodded, a little dazed. Phil’s smile was so wide, and it was pointed right at him. That couldn’t be right. 

Phil placed the glasses on the table, one in front of Dan, and sat down. “Sorry, set-up is done and I got bored.” 

Despite being a tall man, Phil looked completely relaxed and comfortable in the small wooden chair, resting one foot on the bar connecting the table legs. He wore a light blue button-up shirt that seemed a little too tight around the shoulders, with sleeves rolled up. His elbows were resting on the armrests, wine glass held lazily in one hand. 

_Arms_ , Dan’s brain said. _Arms arms arms. Legs? Legs._

 _Shut up_ , Dan thought, shaking his head a little and looking at Phil’s face instead. It didn’t help much. But Dan could fight off the feeling. He always did. 

“Don’t be sorry. Thanks for the drink,” he said. 

PJ cleared his throat. 

“Oh! Sorry, this is Phil. He’s the band’s…” Dan realized he wasn’t actually sure what Phil’s job was. 

“Manager, I’m the band’s manager. We met last week after the show.” Phil leaned forward and reached a hand out across the table, which PJ shook. 

Dan continued. “This is PJ, and Sophie.” 

“Great to meet you both,” Phil said, giving them the same beaming smile before continuing, “if you want any more drinks, they’re on the house. For tonight.” 

PJ and Sophie both eyed him suspiciously, then Sophie’s face brightened with recognition. “Oh, so you’re the mystery drink man from last week! You never told us you met him,” she said to Dan. 

“Oh yeah, I met him after you guys left. It’s, uh, kind of a long story.” Dan shrugged. 

Phil studied Dan’s face curiously. “I guess it kind of is.” 

The band was between songs and Dan saw Martyn climb onto the stage to take his place near the front with his guitar. Dan took the opportunity to change the subject. “Your brother’s late.” 

Phil glanced over his shoulder to the stage. “Yeah, work stuff. Happens every now and then.” 

“Does he have a job outside of the band then?” Dan asked. 

Phil shook his head. “No, I mean, sort of.” He shrugged. “It’s band-related. It’s a secret though. Can’t say.” He winked.

Phil _winked_. It was uncoordinated and not smooth at all, but that didn’t really matter, because Dan was sure he turned an uncouth shade of pink anyway. He took a long sip of the wine. 

“A secret project, then.” Dan said. “Plans for some new music or something? Going to make a record?”

Phil just shrugged again. “I guess you’ll have to find out.” 

Dan rolled his eyes, smiling, then froze, feeling more footsteps close by. A man walked past their table, paying no attention to either Dan or PJ. Dan let out a breath.

When he looked back to Phil he had his head cocked to the side. “All good?” he asked. 

Dan side-eyed PJ, who was in his own murmured conversation with Sophie. How much should he really reveal, when they had no idea who was listening? “Yeah, it’s fine,” he said. “Just a bit on edge. Rough week at work. I’m a detective,” he explained.

Phil held his hands above his head. “I’m innocent, I swear,” he joked, wide-eyed. 

Dan snorted. “I’m not that kind of cop. I have bigger fish to fry than band managers, unfortunately.” 

Phil laughed softly, eyes gleaming, peering from behind his glasses at Dan with such intensity he was sure Phil could see into his soul. “I’m sure you do.” 

Dan’s senses picked up the vibrations of more footsteps near the table, but this time they did stop nearby. “Phil!”

The new man standing beside them was a shorter, blond-haired man with glasses. He was smiling broadly at Phil, and Phil perked up as soon as he heard his name. 

“Hey!” Phil stood and gave the man a side-hug. 

Dan was surprised at the sudden interruption and felt a little put-out despite himself. He didn’t want to admit it, but he enjoyed Phil’s undivided attention. 

“How bona to vada your dolly old eek,” the blond man said quietly, and Dan froze. _How good to see your pretty face._

Was that?

No. 

But yet, though it sounded a bit strange with the obviously American accent the blond man had, there he was, speaking Polari, using language Dan hadn’t heard in years. 

Dan’s mind was immediately thrown back to his theater days, before university, before adulthood, before responsibility, when he was young and naive and had dreams of living a life on stage. Back to listening to other boys bantering and ogling passers-by on the street. Back to the feeling of being able to be whoever he wanted. Back to when maybe, just maybe, he had thought he might have found his people. Back to a single kiss. 

Back to the nightmares that followed. 

Polari was the language of theater, of entertainment, even of some parts of the military, he had been told. An underground language, one Dan had learned in his few years performing, before he moved on with life. 

Basically, it was the language of spaces where many of the men were… not of the average temperament. The straighter temperament. 

Oblivious to his sudden existential crisis, the blond man continued. “With a fortuni omi too. Nice one, Phil.” _With an attractive man, too._

Oh _God,_ Dan thought. Was the man talking about him? Did he think he and Phil…? 

But he couldn’t exactly clarify, because then he’d be letting them know that he _knew._ That was too much to handle, synonymous to admitting something to this perfect stranger that he could barely admit to himself. Besides, the man was speaking quietly enough that he probably expected that Dan wouldn’t be able to hear him over the music. Anyone without sense heightening definitely wouldn’t, anyway. 

Phil, thankfully, saved the day. “Oh, it’s not…” He waved a hand in a dismissive motion. 

“Naff?” The blond man asked. 

Naff. Boring, dull, or… straight. 

Dan’s eyes bored into the table, desperate to avoid looking at the blond man. He held his breath, waiting for Phil’s response. 

“Dunno,” Phil replied. 

Dan let out his breath. 

“Well if he’s ‘so’, let me know,” the blond man said lightly. _If he’s gay, let me know._ “Vada those lills. Imagine.” _Look at those hands._

Dan curled his _lills_ into a fist. The blond man’s voice was easy and Dan could tell he was obviously joking around. He himself had heard much raunchier things in his life. He had _said_ worse. And maybe it was just his defensiveness, his bad mood, his frustration with constantly being on-edge all week, but knowing he was joking didn’t stop the fire that was being lit inside. He didn’t know this guy, and Dan was _right there._

He couldn’t stop himself. “Alright omi, I’m not a fucking Dilly boy.” _Alright man, I’m not a fucking prostitute._ “Go ogle someone else.”

The blond man and Phil both turned in his direction, startled. The blond man’s jaw dropped. “Shit, I’m sorry, omi. I didn’t—I wasn’t—”

Dan deflated, his bad mood disappearing in an instant. He waved a hand dismissively, suddenly regretful at the harshness of his words. Wasn’t he literally just ogling Phil? “It’s fine. Just—don’t. Please.” 

The blond man looked wide-eyed at Phil, then back at Dan, then backed away. “Sorry, I’ll head off. Thursday?” he said to Phil, who nodded. 

Phil sat back down and Dan panicked. 

Why had he done that? Why had he let them know something that intimate, that personal, just to tell a stranger to piss off? Not just a stranger, Dan thought, one of Phil’s _friends._ Oh God. What had he just done? 

Why did Phil know Polari? 

He looked up from the table to see Phil looking at him warily. Why did Phil know Polari? Was he… ‘so’? Dan’s cheeks burned. 

“Dan,” Phil said cautiously. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re a cop,” Phil stated.

Dan almost slapped his forehead. Of course Phil would be worried about that—homosexuality was illegal. He shook his head vehemently. “I told you Phil, I’ve got bigger fish to fry than that. And I’m not a ‘cop’,” he added. “I’m a detective.” 

Phil shrugged. “You’re still the law.” 

“I wouldn’t arrest him anyway. I think it’s stupid.” 

Phil visibly relaxed then, his easy smile returning. “I’m thankful. Wouldn’t want to have to kick you out.” 

Dan watched Phil while the band played in the background and something clicked in his head. Phil was a manager for a bunch of musicians. Polari wasn’t just the language of gay folks, but the language of the spaces those folks were usually found in. _Of course_ Phil spoke Polari. His whole band probably spoke it too. Dan remembered working with plenty of straight people who only spoke it because of the business they were in, back in his theater days. 

“I did theater when I was younger,” Dan blurted out. “That’s how I speak it.” 

Phil nodded, face passive. “Makes sense.” 

Dan paused as, after the panic began to dissipate, Phil’s previous sentence finally processed in his mind. “Wait, you could kick me out? What, do you own this place?”

Phil laughed. “No, I don’t own it. We—well, Martyn and my parents, mostly—are patrons. We help fund it. Hence,” he motioned towards the wine glasses. 

Dan thought back to what the barkeep had said the previous Friday. It made sense now. Phil, apparently, was wealthy. 

As curious as Dan was, it would be rude to ask about exactly how wealthy the man was, so Dan ran with the joke instead. “So you mean you can’t actually kick me out.” 

Phil raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Try me.” 

Dan shook his head. “Definitely not. I’ll take your word for it.” 

Dan wasn’t exactly wealthy. His parents had enough money to fund his university expenses, then when they passed, he inherited a decent sum. Just enough to be comfortable but not enough that he didn’t have to work. He was okay with that though; he figured he’d go crazy doing nothing all day.

Dan went rigid as someone walked past their table. Well, maybe he was going crazy anyway. 

The conversation naturally faded away and they spent the rest of the evening silently listening to the Aberdeen Suite. PJ side-eyed Dan, and he told himself he would let him know what happened later, if he could muster the courage. Dan couldn’t stop himself from dwelling on just how much he had screwed up. In contrast to the previous week, Phil seemed so poised, so in control. Dan, on the other hand, felt like a mess. He had just scared off one of Phil’s friends and managed to imply that he was gay at the same time. He was surprised Phil hadn’t actually kicked him out.

And then there was Phil himself. Dan had managed to keep focused when they were talking, but with nothing else to take his concentration, Dan found his eyes constantly drifting. Phil hadn’t said anything explicitly letting Dan know he wasn’t straight, and until then it was safest to assume that he knew Polari because of the music connections. But after everything else, Dan finally admitted it to himself: Phil was attractive. Maybe, just maybe… he _wanted_ Phil to be that way. There was nothing he could do to deny it anymore. And that was really, really not good. 

He was bound over a gaping chasm. Thick ropes tied around his wrists and ankles, criss-crossing across his waist and around his neck, tearing him down. Dan dug his hands into the space around him, but there was nothing left to cling to. 

And when Phil looked back at him, he felt a tug, like delicate threads pulling him towards the blue. He was pulled just a little bit closer every time, just a tiny, miniscule amount. 

He already knew he would be dragged into those eyes eventually. 

But that was wrong. That was illegal. Dan knew that, knew it well. He told himself the moment he left his old life—what was it now? Eight? Nine years?—that he couldn’t return. His heart had been wrenched from him and he had sewn it back together. He couldn’t let it get taken now. The stitches could rip at any moment. He had to protect it, not let it go. 

By the time the music stopped and Phil stood up to help the band with take-down, Dan had decided he should apologize. “Sorry for scaring your friend. I didn’t mean to, I just, he just caught me off guard.” 

Phil smiled softly. “It’s okay, Dan. I understand. Though if you wanted to make it up to me…” 

Dan’s mind immediately went to places it should not have. “Um, what were you thinking?”

“Come back next week. It’s more fun talking to you than hanging out backstage by myself.” 

Dan smiled, relieved. “You can count on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Tripping in Triplets" by The Dear Hunter


	6. The Answer to the Question I Can't Find

Dan knocked gently on the door to Tom’s flat. 

A few seconds later, a bleary-eyed Tom pulled it open. He didn’t seem surprised to see Dan waiting for him. “Yeah?” 

“I saw the blue Flitter again,” Dan explained. “They’re still following us.” 

Tom raised an eyebrow and stepped back from the doorway, opening the door wider and waving him inside. “When was this?”

“Peej and I were going to the Mucky Duck. I saw the blue Flitter when they thought we had already gone inside. They bolted, though.” 

They sat down in Tom’s small living room, Dan sinking into the comfy, cushioned chair. The fire was burning at a low crackle and cast a dim light across the room. A book sat overturned on the table in the center; Tom’s entertainment for the night, Dan figured. A glass of whisky sat next to it. 

Dan suddenly realized it had been what, maybe two years since he had visited Tom in his flat? It didn’t really look that different, but there were a few things that felt off: a painting hanging where there wasn’t one before; a new bookshelf, half-filled with books; various pieces of furniture moved to slightly different spots around the room. 

“You sure it’s the same guy?” Tom asked him. 

Dan nodded. “Positive. Same shade of dark blue, definitely a Flitter. Too big of a coincidence to be a different person. Plus like I said, they ran as soon as they realized I saw them.”

Tom sighed, leaning forward to pick up his whisky and taking a sip. “And do you still think it’s PM?” 

Dan nodded again, slowly this time. “I do, yeah.” When Tom didn’t respond, he continued. “I don’t know Tom, I just have this gut feeling, like I’ve seen this person before, that they know me somehow. We’ve worked on so many PM cases, what, fifteen? More? How many notes do I have sitting on my desk? I went through them again and the last one… it seemed like they were getting fed up. Maybe this is a warning? What if Charlie Smith was someone else who crossed their path?” He shivered. 

Dan looked up to find Tom staring at the table, lost in thought. It was a long moment before he spoke. “I believe you.”

Tom looked up then and met his gaze. “Thank you,” Dan said. 

“I think you might be right. The timing is too suspicious. Louise told me about your nights outside her shop, you know. That’s probably making you a target.” 

Dan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I just wish I had some real, actual evidence. All I have is this gut instinct. We’ll find some, though, I know it. Though we still can’t find that fucking Tyler Oakley guy.” 

“It’d be a good idea to make sure you’re armed, from here on out,” Tom suggested. 

Dan agreed. As officers of the law, he and PJ had weapons training, though their jobs weren’t usually dangerous enough to carry a gun at all times. Paperwork and interviewing witnesses wasn’t exactly precarious work. That being said, Dan had a knife tucked against his thigh at all times, and a Colt Government pistol sitting in his locked bottom desk drawer at the office. He hadn’t needed to use it much, but it was reliable when he had. 

He also hadn’t known PM to use guns, or any weapons, really. The heists they pulled always were about stealing things, and it seems like they tried to avoid people as much as possible. Attacking someone would probably be far too conspicuous, and they preferred to tie up and gag those they needed them out of the way. Dan couldn’t remember a single time anyone was killed a PM heist stakeout, and rarely were people hurt, aside from the occasional ropeburn, maybe. 

Except Charlie Smith. Charlie Smith with his eyes gouged out, bleeding out, left for dead in a dark alleyway. 

“What about you?” Dan asked. 

“I haven’t seen anyone myself,” Tom said. He had magic sense too, along with sound manipulation, making him a Buzzer. If the Flitter, or anyone else from PM with invisibility, had been following Tom, it’s likely Tom would have seen them too, though he didn’t have the heightened senses to be able to catch them from far away. “I don’t think they’re watching me; I haven’t really been on the case as much as you two. You know I’m always armed though,” he chuckled. 

Dan snorted a laugh. Tom really did have a fascination with guns. “Just keep a look out, yeah?” 

“Course.” 

Dan stood. “I’m going to go to Pentland Jewelry.” 

Tom frowned. “You sure that’s wise?” 

“Maybe not.” Dan shrugged. “You know I’m gonna do it anyway.” He had far too much on his mind and not enough space in his tiny flat to think it all out. If he wasn’t going to go home, he might as well be useful. 

“Be safe, then, Dan. Don’t let your guard down.” Tom stood and they walked to the door. “I don’t want you to be the next Charles Smith, okay? Oh, wait a sec—” he cut off and walked into a different room, leaving Dan alone by the door for a moment. He returned quickly holding a pistol inside of its holster. “Yours is at the office, right? You can give it back Monday, but I’m not letting you go out there unarmed right now, if PM really is following you.” 

Dan grimaced but took the gun, belting the holster around his waist underneath his coat. “Thanks.” 

Dan’s own flat wasn’t far from Tom’s, but he headed in the opposite direction, going further into town. He made good time, feeling the slight bump of the gun against his thigh as he walked. He desperately hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. Somehow, being armed didn’t make him feel any safer. It was disconcerting, a reminder of just how real the danger now was. 

Every shadow, every sound, no matter how small, made Dan twitch, but he didn’t see any sign of the Flitter.

When he reached the alleyway across from Pentland Jewelry, he leaned against the wall for only a split second before deciding that wasn’t where he wanted to be. He looked up at the tall walls surrounding him and shivered. Definitely not. 

He could go inside and join the stakeout with the paid guards, but having to interact with them isn’t what Dan wanted. He inspected the building: brick, stately, with a slightly slanted roof and some chimneys. Unlike the buildings around it, it housed no apartments above, so was comparatively low to the ground. Dan’s eyes landed on a metal escape ladder leading to the roof. Perfect. 

He crossed the street and quickly found the ladder didn’t reach the ground, starting a good three meters up. Dan sighed and reached his arms up. Levitation would be pretty nice right now. 

Dan wasn’t completely out of shape, but it still took a lot more struggling than he would ever admit to pull himself up that three meters. He really hoped no one was watching, though with his luck, the blue Flitter was probably laughing their arse off somewhere nearby. 

Well, whatever, Dan was a tall guy, okay? He had a lot of body to lift. 

The ladder creaked a bit as he made the rest of the way up to the roof, but it held, thankfully. He crouched low as he found a good spot on the roof to sit, nestled next to a smokestack with a good view of the street in front of the shop. The tall buildings around him still made him feel a little too enclosed, but it was better than being even further below. 

Dan leaned his head back against the brick. When had his life gotten so crazy?

He shook that thought out of his head right away. It had always been crazy. Even when he was still a kid, life never seemed to have any normal things in stock for him. He wasn’t sure he was really cut out for normal. 

But he tried. He supposed what his life was like the last few years probably counted as kind of normal: a small flat, a day job, occasional drinks with friends, the same cycle week to week. And God, he had worked so hard for that normalcy. He knew far too well how easy it was to get lost in himself without that routine. 

But he had a future. A future that contained so much uncertainty. A future he was barreling towards faster and faster as the days went by. He couldn’t put off thinking about it forever. 

Did he even have control over his future, though? Wasn’t this the path his life had been set on? Was he in control over his own actions, or was there a God out there leading him down a predetermined path? He opened his eyes and looked up at the sky; it was partially overcast, and Dan could see the stars through the patchy clouds. Was his fate written in them? If he visualized it, he could almost see the puppet strings descending from the sky. 

The answer was that he didn’t _know_. Did anyone really know? How could anyone look around at the universe and declare that kind of knowledge with such certainty? The pastors of his youth certainly seemed confident. Dan was almost jealous of their conviction. 

And there were definitely still things Dan wanted. He didn’t think he wanted to be a detective for the rest of his life; it wasn’t a bad job, but it still didn’t really feel right. He wanted to move to a nicer flat, maybe even a house one day. And… family. 

What did he even want out of that?

Dan never really wanted to get married—settling down with a wife to have some kids just never really appealed to him. Before they passed, his parents hounded him to spend more time looking for a “nice girl”, and took his disinterest as teenage defiance. Dan wasn’t about to correct them, obviously. The truth was, he’d rather have been spending time with the other boys at the theater than going on dates with girls. 

Well, look what _that_ got him. A dead family and loneliness. 

His ears picked up on a noise behind him and he spun around a little too fast, almost whacking his head on the chimney. He distinguished the sound as that of a latch being opened, and was proven correct when he spied the top of a hatch opening just over the top of the sloped roof. Dan stood to get a better look and found the guard Gloria climbing out. 

Oh, great. Company was just what Dan wanted. 

Once she was on the roof properly Gloria stood up and dusted off her clothes, then flashed Dan a smile. “Saw you come up here. Alleyway not good enough for today?” 

Dan sat back down against the chimney. “Felt safer up here.” 

Gloria sat down a short distance away and tilted her head towards him. “Seems the same as any other night to me.” 

Dan shook his head. “I’m being followed now.” 

Gloria’s eyes widened. “Followed? By who?”

Dan paused for a moment. How much should he give away? Charlie Smith’s case was still open, and he shouldn’t be sharing information about it without good reason. But, if PM really did have something to do with it, maybe she should know about the stalking, at least. “I can’t say for sure, but we think it’s PM.” 

Gloria hummed in response, absentmindedly twisting a finger around one of the many small braids trailing from her head. “Not surprised, honestly.” Dan raised an eyebrow and she added, “No offense or anything, you’ve just been bothering them for some time now, yeah?” 

How did Gloria know anything about that? “Has Tom been blabbing about me or something?”

Gloria laughed quietly. “No, Dan, you’re not the only one who has been exposed to them before. I’ve been for-hire for a few years now, and these rich guys keep hiring me to protect their shit. I actually recognized you from a few stakeouts that day you all came in to talk to that spy.” 

Dan bit his lip. He felt bad Gloria had recognized him but he never bothered to remember her. “How many times?”

Gloria shrugged. “Five, six, something like that. I don’t really keep track.” 

“I don’t need to keep track. They keep leaving me notes. I can just count those.” 

“Heard about those,” Gloria said. “That’s well creepy. I’m surprised they weren’t following you sooner, if I’m being honest.” 

Dan nodded, trying not to think about the fact that they didn’t actually know if they _were_ following him earlier than now. “Tell me something.” 

“Hmm?”

“All of the PM heists have been successful.” 

“What about it?” Gloria questioned. 

“Yet here you are, knowing that this one will probably end the same way. Why do you do it?” 

Gloria snorted a laugh, then quieted and turned serious. “I could say the same to you.” When Dan didn’t reply, she continued, “I still get paid, you know. And can I make a confession? I don’t really care if these rich dolts have all their shit stolen. It’s still just a job. I have pride in being good at what I do, I guess, but I know when I’ve been beaten. I just accept it at this point.” 

Dan nodded. He would be lying if he said justice for the rich was the reason why he continued to follow PM. “I don’t really know why I keep doing it,” he admitted. “I know how it’s going to end every time. Annoying and unsatisfying, like a waste of time.” 

“So why are you here, then?” Gloria asked, gesturing to the rooftop. “Not just tonight, but all the time. We see you every other night, at least. We bet on it, you know,” she admitted with a chuckle. “Few pence on whether or not you’ll show up. I won tonight, if you’re curious.” 

Dan chuckled and was about to reply, but was distracted by movement in the building across from him. Not _in_ the building, he realized, but actually _outside_ of the building, on one of the balconies to a flat. It was the wine-red outline of a person. 

“PM,” Dan breathed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gloria nod, looking in the same direction. She must have magic sense too. 

“A Flitter. He’s been there for a few hours,” she commented. “Hasn’t moved around much, though. Almost thought he might have left.”

The red outline, surprisingly, didn’t stop moving then. Dan assumed that staying still for so long to hide the trail was probably difficult, and understood the need to move around a bit, but was still surprised at how obvious the red Flitter was being. They weren’t even very far away, and Dan could make out their motions without needing increased eyesight. The figure stretched, reaching their hands towards the sky. 

Then the figure _waved_.

Dan gaped and did a double-take. The gesture was unmistakable. The red Flitter was waving to Dan and Gloria. 

“What the fuck?” Gloria said. 

Dan wasn’t sure how to react, so he did the only logical thing and gave a small wave back. 

“Dan, what the Hell are you doing?” Gloria asked, astonished. 

Dan shrugged, putting his hand down. “No idea.” 

They continued to watch warily as the red Flitter went mostly invisible again, standing still but not the practiced stillness that didn’t display an outline. After a few moments they sat down, their outline a haze of red as the body scrunched up against the floor of the balcony. They threaded their legs through the bars of the railing and started swinging them casually. 

“Wow, they really don’t give a shit,” Dan commented. 

Gloria just shook her head as the figure continued to swing their legs slightly, sitting back with their hands behind them. 

The low burn of rage started low but grew rapidly. It became obvious that PM didn’t care that Dan knew, now that the blue Flitter had revealed himself accidentally. The person sitting across the street from he and Gloria seemed almost friendly with him. So casual. So easygoing. So laid-back. 

“Bastard,” Dan muttered under his breath. “Bloody bastard. You killed Charlie Smith.” 

Gloria snapped her head towards him with shock. “They did what now?” 

“I’m almost certain PM mutilated and killed an innocent man,” Dan explained. “But this bastard has the audacity to wave at us. Like we’re _friends_.” He practically spat the final word. 

“A murder?” Gloria asked, disbelieving. “They do that?” 

“Apparently.” 

The conversation ceased for a moment. The red Flitter continued to sit idly, apparently enjoying the night air. Then, Gloria spoke up. “Did I ever tell you they got me, once?” 

“How do you mean, got you?” Dan asked. 

“Captured me. Tied me up, put a bag over my head, picked me up and dumped me in a room with some other guards.” Gloria shook her head. “But they were so nice about it? Like they didn’t want to hurt me. It was almost creepy. The guy who tied me up whispered in my ear, asking if I was okay, which was bloody weird. Who does that?” 

Dan saw where the conversation was headed. “You don’t think they did it.” 

“I’m not the detective,” she said, “but there are lots of people in this group, I know that for sure. I’m not so well-versed in their ways that they know me by name, like _some_ people,” she said pointedly, “but if it was them, it could well be a few people and not the whole group.” 

“And does that matter?” Dan asked. 

Gloria raised an eyebrow at him. “I think it does.” Once again Dan didn’t respond, so she continued. “I’m just saying, don’t let your grudge get in the way of your investigation, maybe. Or do let it. Like I said, I’m not the detective here.” She held her hands up in concession. 

“So what, you think some of them—” Dan cut off abruptly as he spied another outline. The same deep blue outline that had been plaguing him all week. “Oh my God, Gloria, that’s them!” He pointed to where the blue figure was descending down the building across from them towards the red figure, teleporting from balcony to balcony and moving with abandon, uncaring about the revealing outline. 

“That’s who?” Gloria asked, gaze following his hand to where the blue Flitter was. 

“That’s the Flitter that’s been following me all week,” Dan explained. 

They watched as the blue Flitter descended down to the same level as the red one. The Flitters greeted each other without words, just a short, simple wave. The blue Flitter sat down next to the red Flitter, though he didn’t swing his legs. 

There it was. There was undeniable, intangible proof that the blue Flitter was from PM. 

The blue Flitter waved to them. 

“Oh fuck off.” Dan scowled. “You’re not my friend, mate. You’re stalking me.” 

Next to him, Gloria snorted a laugh. “They are awfully friendly, aren’t they.”

Dan rubbed his forehead. “They probably just think because they know my name, we’re all somehow best mates.” 

“Maybe they’re lonely,” Gloria chuckled. There was silence for a few long moments as the conversation trailed off, and then she spoke again. “Well I hope they’re not trying to kill you, at least.” 

Dan rolled his eyes at her. “Oh thanks for that, really lightens my spirits to hear you don’t want me to be mutilated and murdered.” 

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean.” 

Dan yawned. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the stars were moved quite far across the sky from when he had arrived. What constellation was that again? Lyra? Cygnus? It had been so long since he learned the names in university. 

“I should go sleep,” he said, standing. “It’s been a… long day, to say the least.” It felt like a whole week had passed since he walked out of the library with PJ that evening. 

“Alright,” Gloria said tentatively. “Do you need me to walk you home?” 

Dan smiled slightly. “I’m armed, I should be okay,” he explained, patting the spot where the gun formed a small bump underneath his coat. 

He came to Pentland Jewelry that night for some peace and a place to think, not for company, but he admitted to himself that maybe actually talking to someone else was what he needed. He found he really didn’t mind Gloria being there, after all.

“Well if you find yourself in need of a bodyguard, I’m always for hire. First two hours on the house,” she said with a wink. 

Dan chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” 

Unexpectedly, as Dan was climbing down from the roof, rather than the blue Flitter, the red Flitter teleported down and walked a few meters behind, not even bothering to disguise the fact that they were following. Dan kept one hand on his holster the whole way, though the red Flitter made no moves to get any closer. 

PM was being so forward towards him. Dan could only hope that didn’t mean what he feared it might.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Thing That Hide Away" by The Dear Hunter


	7. But the Sentiment is Starting to Seduce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers ahead for the 1925 silent film "The Merry Widow" just in case it was on your quarantine watchlist or somethin

Dan woke up on Saturday before dawn, feeling uneasy. 

Fourteen hours later he went to bed, feeling _very_ uneasy. 

Dan was a homebody. He didn’t exactly go out all that often, except the occasional trip with PJ and Sophie to the Mucky Duck or to see a movie at the cinema. Staying home and tidying up or reading a book wasn’t something he was unused to. 

But there’s a difference between relaxing in one’s home, cozy and safe, and hiding out in one’s home like a scared rabbit. Dan definitely felt more like the latter. And he hated it.

Dan told himself he had no real reason to go anywhere, so why would he? It was much better to stay at home, where PM couldn’t follow him around. It wasn’t even unusual to have a weekend to himself; in fact, especially lately, it was the norm. But even as he stood making his breakfast on Sunday morning, he couldn’t stop peeking around corners and out the small windows, searching for traces of the red or blue Flitters. 

That afternoon and Dan was sat rereading the same page of a book, unable to concentrate long enough to process the information without getting distracted by a flicker out the window, a shadow in the corner, a thud from the flat beneath him. 

He stood up suddenly, tossing the book to the side in frustration. It felt pointless. Who the Hell were PM to stop him from feeling safe in his own home? Well, he was done with it. He wasn’t about to hide out in his flat until they inevitably offed him. Dan was nothing if not stubborn. 

And okay, maybe there was a little part of him that thought he might feel safer in public.

So he quickly changed and hurried out of his flat. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go yet, but he sure as Hell didn’t want to stay home. 

And of course, as soon as he walked out of his flat, he spied the red Flitter sitting, swinging their legs on the balcony across the street from his own building, their outline almost blending in to the brick. The Flitter gave him a small wave. 

Dan flipped them off. 

His feet decided for him where he was to go: the Mucky Duck, apparently. He made good time, bobbing in and out of the mid-afternoon traffic. When he was almost there, he looked behind him to confirm what he already knew: the red Flitter was following, still invisible, not even bothering to hide the way they had done before. Instead of ducking in and out of the alleyways, they were striding confidently down the street several meters behind. Dan snickered as the Flitter bumped into someone who didn’t have magic sense and couldn’t see their outline. Served them right. 

Thankfully, just like before, the Flitter never followed him inside, stopping and teleporting out of sight not too far before they reached the Mucky Duck. Dan headed inside. The truth was, he actually did feel quite a bit safer in the crowds. He at least felt confident the red Flitter wouldn’t try anything in broad daylight with other people around. 

He ordered a cheap pint from the bartender and rather than finding a nice corner like he usually would, he sat down at the bar. 

Dan jumped and almost knocked over his drink when he felt someone plop down next to him. “Fancy seeing you here. It’s not Friday.” 

Dan started smiling involuntarily as soon as he heard the voice. “I could ask you the same thing—I thought the band didn’t play today?” 

Phil wore a deep red button-up shirt with little white flowers on it; short sleeves, showing off his arms now that the weather was warming. Dan found himself watching the button at Phil’s neck as he spoke. “Going to see a film with Mar and Corn. I had some work I got done with early, so I’m just passing time until I meet them at the cinema.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dan thought about the last time he had been to the cinema. It was what, December? He remembered going with PJ and Sophie, but couldn’t even remember which film he had seen. 

“You can come, if you’d like,” Phil offered. 

Dan took a quick gulp of his beer. Phil was smiling at him and hadn’t looked away, head cocked slightly, searching for an answer. It wasn’t that Dan didn’t want to; it _did_ sound fun, but was fun really what Dan needed? He was tied up in the middle of the PM case, paranoid as Hell. The red Flitter would keep following them, Dan knew. Would that be putting Phil in danger? 

“I’m okay,” Dan finally said. 

“Oh come on, I’d feel bad talking about my fun plans if I didn’t let you come along,” Phil urged. He bumped Dan’s shoulder with his own. 

“I’ve already spent so much going out lately,” Dan evaded. 

“It’ll be on me.” Phil said in a sing-song voice and wiggled his eyebrows. Dan just rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, it’ll be fun. You’ll save me from third-wheeling with Mar and Corn. Please?” He faked a pout.

“I—” He what? What was he going to tell Phil? That he was being stalked? That even being around Dan could put him in danger? 

“See? No excuses.” Phil said. 

The cinema. Dan supposed there were lots of people there too, and it was no safer than the Mucky Duck. In fact, maybe being around civilians like Phil would make PM back off for a few hours. He _did_ come out to be around other people out in public, and then there was Phil right in front of him, who did seem to really want him to come along, even after the fool he had made of himself on Friday… 

God, Dan was such a people-pleaser. “Fine, I’ll come. But I’ll pay for myself.” Phil had already bought him so many drinks. He didn’t want to be a leech. 

Phil smiled and pumped his fists triumphantly. “I mean,” he started, “you don’t have to if you really don’t want to. But I’d like you to.” He gave Dan a soft smile and was it Dan’s vivid imagination or were his cheeks turning pink? He’d probably been drinking, Dan surmised.

“No, I’ll come, it’s fine,” Dan assured him. Now that he had made the decision, he definitely wasn’t going to back out. “I’m just—” He cut off again, not sure how to even safely describe the craziness that was work. 

He looked up at Phil, who was sat there calmly, patiently waiting for him to continue. 

Dan sighed. “I’m just preoccupied by work, is all.” 

“Well then this is the perfect distraction,” Phil said, bumping their shoulders again. “Plus we’re going to see a film that probably won’t be shown again. This is your last chance.” 

“What film is it?” 

“ _The Merry Widow_ ,” Phil said. “Premiered in August last year, but we missed it, and now there’s a cinema showing it again for a few weeks.” 

Dan vaguely recognized the name, and he didn’t think he had seen it, not that it mattered; he’d probably still go even if he already had. 

Phil glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, then stood. “We should leave soon if we’re going to make it in time.” 

It was still light outside, but the sun was beginning to set, casting an orange-ish tint over the streets. As they left the Mucky Duck and began in the direction of the theater, Dan kept his eyes and ears tuned for signs of the red Flitter, but found none. Dan knew they were still there, watching from a distance, but apparently company had made them reclusive. Dan wasn’t surprised; PM wouldn’t know who Phil was, whether he was another Seeker or happened to have magic sense, or if he was related to Tom’s detective agency at all. It made sense that they would hang in the background. Dan hoped it also meant he was in the clear for at least a little while. 

His left hand found his holster anyway, and he watched Phil from out of the corner of his eye. He was walking casually with his hands in his trouser pockets, confidently unaware. Dan vowed to make sure it would stay that way. He wasn’t about to get anyone else tied up in this mess, let alone a newfound friend. 

Friend. His stomach tightened a little. Yes, that’s what Phil was, Dan realized. It came as somewhat of a shock, as he wasn’t exactly good at making friends, or just being social in general. Even in university, he barely talked to the other students. His closest friends were PJ, Sophie, and Tom, and if he never went into this profession he figured he’d probably have none. 

Dan could handle being a loner, though. Making friends was welcome, of course, but they weren’t a necessity. They were more like an expensive bed: something that can make your life more comfortable, if you wanted. But just like an expensive bed, the cost was high. Maintaining relationships wasn’t easy. If he didn’t work with PJ and Tom, Dan was confident they would have ditched him by now. He didn’t exactly have much to offer, after all, especially with his bouts of melancholy taking him out for months at a time. 

But Phil wouldn’t have invited him along if they weren’t friends, right? Even if they had only hung out twice, they did have lengthy conversations both times, and Phil seemed to enjoy his company. But did that make them friends? How did you define ‘friends’ versus just ‘acquaintances’? If he called Phil his friend, how would he respond? Was it too soon? He never really went through this phase with PJ and Tom, being forced to spend time with them, and Sophie he knew through PJ. 

Dan breathed deeply through his nose. He was overthinking. Debatably a good thing for his job sometimes, sure, but maybe not the best if he didn’t want to scare away Phil. He just had to be patient and see how the night went. He could almost hear PJ in his ear, talking him through it. _It’s not that complicated, Dan. Not everything is a puzzle._

Nonetheless, something tugged down in his stomach, deep in the back of his mind. Something pulling him down. And something pulling him towards Phil. 

But he _could_ resist. He could. He had to. 

They reached the cinema and Phil paid for his ticket while Dan tried to protest. Phil refused and smirked at Dan while he gave the money to the cashier. That cheeky smile hit Dan like a brick to the chest. 

Resisting might be more difficult than he originally thought. 

They walked into the theater to find Martyn and Cornelia already there, easily spotted by Cornelia’s bright red hair. As they sat down, Dan watched the door; just as he thought, the red Flitter didn’t follow them inside, unless they had managed to find a different entrance. It _was_ PM after all. Dan didn’t doubt they could find their way into any building. 

“Phil!” Martyn exclaimed in a hushed tone when they were seated. “Didn’t think you were going to make it. And Dan, what a nice surprise.” Martyn leaned over Phil and held his hand out for Dan to shake while Cornelia gave him a little wave from Martyn’s other side. 

“Yeah, well,” Phil started, “as you can see work’s on hold for now. Plus you know how much I wanted to see this one.” 

Dan tried to get comfortable in the small seat but came to a distracting realization: he was tall. Phil was tall. They were both far too tall for the tiny theater seats. Unless he wanted to sit uncomfortably to the side, his right leg was going to be glued to Phil’s most of the night. 

He _could_ resist. He _would_.

Apparently he and Phil had gotten there in the nick of time, because not long after they sat, the electric lights went off and the projector whirred to life at the back of the room. A pianist played a plinky, cheery tune while the Metro Goldwyn Mayer lion played out on the screen. 

“I love lions,” Phil whispered, and Dan jumped, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck. Phil’s mouth was practically on Dan’s ear. Phil obviously didn’t want to be rude and talk loudly, but he had no idea the kind of effect it had. 

Dan looked at Phil, who was now studying the screen, reading the text introducing the kingdom of Castellano. He apparently felt no need to clarify what prompted that proclamation. 

Dan leaned in close to Phil, tantalizingly close, just as Phil had done to him. “Have you ever seen a llama?” 

Phil spun around so fast their noses almost crashed together, startled. “No? What’s a ‘llama’?” 

Dan thought for a moment, and whispered, “Imagine a sheep.” Phil nodded. “Now make it really fluffy, and give it a really long neck, so it’s really tall. Longer legs too. That’s a llama.” 

Phil’s mouth turned into an ‘o’. “Woah.” 

Dan smiled. “I’ll have to find you a picture of one sometime.” 

“Where do they even have those?” Phil asked, eyes wide. 

“South America, I think. I saw one at a circus when I was young.” 

“That sounds so cool,” Phil said a little louder, which earned him a thump on the arm from Martyn. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, sharing a smile with Dan before turning to pay attention to the film again. 

The movie continued while the pianist played mood-appropriate music over. Dan tried to pay close attention to the story of Sally O’Hara and Prince Danilo. That proved more difficult than he thought, what with Phil sitting right next to him. He was much easier on the eyes than the protagonists of the film.

Of course, it was all very exaggerated, as acting tended to be. Still, Dan cringed a little when Prince Danilo leered in so close to Sally at their first meeting. He seemed to thirst so badly after the woman’s touch, even after just kissing someone else. It made Dan feel a little gross. He’d seen so many men act that way, and he never understood it. 

Phil tapped his hand on Dan’s knee, making Dan jump again as Phil leaned in to whisper in his ear. “He’s like a hound, drooling all over her, isn’t he?” 

A shiver went down Dan’s spine and he became hyper aware of where his leg touched Phil’s. Okay, so maybe he could understand the yearning, just a little bit. 

He leaned in and whispered back, “Bet you she ends up with him anyway.” 

That earned a chuckle from Phil. The film continued much like that, with the two of them whispering their thoughts over the course of the two hour runtime. They agreed the villain, Danilo’s cousin and the Crown Prince, was too cheesy, and that it seemed like Sally was only in it for the money at the end. Why couldn’t she just be honest about what she wanted? If she told Danilo she loved him earlier, the film could have been a whole hour shorter.

Finally, after Danilo was crowned as king with Sally as his queen, the music came to a final victorious culmination, the projector stopped transmitting the film, and the electric lights were turned on once again. Dan’s first instinct was to stand right away and stretch out his cramped legs, but the feeling of Phil’s own warm leg against his stopped him. He peeked next to him. Phil was still staring at the screen, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Dan didn’t want to break the spell, but he really did need to stretch. 

“What’d you think?” Dan asked, bumping Phil’s shoulder with his own. 

That shook Phil from his thoughts. “Kind of naff.” Boring. 

Dan took a moment to respond, thrown off by the casual use of Polari again. Phil knew that Dan spoke Polari, though, so of course he’d use it. Sometimes there just wasn’t a good enough word in the King’s English. 

“Agreed,” he finally said. “Though I’m glad Mirko got shot at the end. He deserved it.” 

Phil stood up then, nodding in agreement, and Dan followed suit. “Yeah, but he was such a bad villain. So one-dimensional.” 

“Definitely.” 

“What’d you two think?” Martyn asked them as they all walked out of the theater. Dan was content to let Phil explain their thoughts. Martyn and Cornelia seemed happy to see him, but he still wasn’t really sure if he was intruding somehow. 

It was dark outside by the time they made it out of the theater, and still Dan saw no sign of the red Flitter. The four walked roughly in the direction of the Mucky Duck, Dan listening to Phil and Martyn chattering away about the plot of the movie, until they reached an intersection that Dan knew he had to take to get back to his own flat. He said as much to the group, which earned a frown from Phil. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come get a drink?” Phil asked him. “It’s not that late.” 

Dan shook his head. “I’ve got work tomorrow.” 

“Ah.” Phil looked to Martyn and Cornelia, then back to Dan. “I can walk with you back to your flat, if you want.” 

Dan could feel his skin burning. God, he probably looked like a tomato. Walking him home? It was starting to sound a lot like a date. “Oh, no, I’m ok. It’s not far.” 

“London can be dangerous at night, Dan. You sure you don’t want company? Just to see you safely to your door, that’s all.” And by God it seemed like Phil was blushing too. 

Dan subtly pinched his leg from where his hand was inside his trousers pocket. He wasn’t dreaming. Phil was stood in front of him, shuffling his feet and peeking out shyly from behind his glasses, which only made Dan’s heart race even more. Not to mention Martyn and Cornelia standing there, watching the whole exchange. 

What had he gotten himself into? 

“No,” he said, more firmly this time. He wasn’t about to let this get out of control. He _would_ resist. “I’m okay. I’ll see you all on Wednesday?” 

Phil didn’t hide his dismay but accepted Dan’s response. “Yeah, of course! See you then, Dan,” with Martyn and Cornelia joining in with goodbyes. 

And with that, Dan was alone. 

He wasn’t too far from his flat, maybe just a ten minute walk. Still, the darkness didn’t to much to assuage his fears, even with his vision heightened. Now that he was alone again, he expected to see the red Flitter at any moment. 

And they did not disappoint. After walking just a few blocks, Dan heard the popping sound behind him and looked back to find the red Flitter strolling behind, just as they had when he left his flat that afternoon. 

Dan sighed deeply. Of course. 

When he was around other people, PM would hide, make him feel like a madman, always on edge. Oh, they still wanted him to know they were there, of course. Always there, hiding, lurking, watching. But they’d never give him proof. Never give over their presence when there was a chance someone else might notice what was amiss. 

No matter how many new ‘friends’ he made, Dan was going to be in this alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "This Body" by The Dear Hunter


	8. The Heat of a Thousand Breaths Upon My Neck

Dan woke up Monday morning to a funny, fuzzy feeling in his stomach and the sweet dream of Phil still on his mind. 

Oh no. _Oh no._ That was _not_ good. 

He felt this feeling before, so many years ago. He never wanted to feel that way again. 

But yesterday, well, yesterday was too far. Yesterday was Phil’s voice in his ear, soft and low. It was the sound of his laugh, just as musical as the piano being played in the background. It was the soft smell of his cologne, expensive and somehow both woodsy and sweet. His small chuckle as he and Dan exchanged quips. His endearing, apparently sincere want to have Dan around. 

Dan was falling for Phil. 

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. It didn’t matter what he wanted, because Dan’s heart was shattered into pieces years ago, and there it lay still to this day. He couldn’t mend it; he’d already tried. 

So instead, stoically, silently, he got out of bed and got ready for the day. 

Dan stepped into the hall of his apartment building and heard a crinkling underneath his feet. Confused, he looked down to see some paper under his shoe. He bent down and picked it up. 

_you shouldn’t go alone_

Dan’s heart skipped a beat and he looked around the hallway; no one. The paper was plain white other than his dusty footprint, and there was no signature, though he already recognized the handwriting. If he was right, it would just further confirm what Dan already had guessed. 

It looked almost identical to the notes sitting on his desk at the office. 

Was PM directly threatening him now? What was the point of threatening him if they were already having him trailed 24/7? They already knew that he knew they were there. Were they just trying to play the psychological angle? 

The conversation with Gloria on Friday came to mind. She seemed insistent that something about PM was more complicated than it seemed, and the more Dan learned, the more inclined he was to agree. Already Dan’s mind was trying to fit the new information into the vast puzzle of things he already knew about them. Maybe they were flaunting, letting him know what was coming, but the wording of the note seemed so strange. It was straight-forward, not infuriatingly cheeky and teasing like it usually had been, and it wasn’t even signed, but they had to know he’d realize it was from them.

He shoved the note into his pocket; he would have to show PJ and Tom and see what they thought about it. In the meantime, he would have to walk to work alone, despite PM’s “helpful” advice. 

As usual, when he left the building he tried to find the Flitter that he knew would be following him, but that morning, they seemed to prefer to stay elusive. Strange, after doing the exact opposite just the night before, but he supposed leaving a note was forward enough for them today. 

He hustled to work quickly, eager to sort through the swirl of thoughts and theories in his mind with Tom and PJ. When he arrived PJ wasn’t there yet, but Tom’s office door was open. He walked in and tossed the note onto Tom’s desk. 

Tom’s eyebrows creased as he picked up the note. “What’s this?”

“That,” Dan began, “is the note PM left outside my door.” He briefly explained seeing both Flitters outside Pentland Jewelry, confirming them as a part of PM, and the red Flitter’s forward behavior over the weekend. 

Tom looked over the note for a moment. “Get the others?” he suggested. 

Dan retrieved the other notes from his desk and brought them in. Sitting down, he heard the door open and PJ puffing as he arrived, immediately joining them in Tom’s office. In his hand he held another note. 

“Oh God, you too?” Dan asked. 

PJ nodded, flopping down into the other chair. “Outside my door this morning. I figured you got one too?”

“Yeah,” Dan said as he scanned PJ’s note. 

_don’t go alone_

Tom nodded, holding Dan’s note in one hand and comparing them to the others now strewn about on his desk while Dan filled PJ in on the events of the weekend. “It’s the same paper, and the handwriting seems the same. It’s definitely PM.” Tom dropped the note and rubbed one hand over his short beard. “They’re so different, though.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Dan agreed. “The other notes are teasing, almost lighthearted. These ones seem serious, and they’re not signed. Do you think—is it a threat?”

PJ shook his head. “It could be but it doesn’t really sound like one; more like a warning, I think. But about what? And honestly, why?”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Tom said. “We are literally pursuing them as criminals and have been for years. What would they be warning _us_ about?” 

“I agree it doesn’t sound like a threat, though,” Dan said. “The tone is off. It’s too serious and straightforward, I think. But if it was a threat, and they are trying to make us scared, why would they make it harder on themselves to take us out? Or—or maybe, what if they want us in the same place to make it easier on them—”

Dan felt PJ’s hand on his shoulder and looked over to see his partner giving him a knowing look, one that said “slow down, you’re overthinking again.” Dan put his hands to his eyes and took in a deep breath. His mind was swarming with thoughts and ideas, attempts to try and connect this new piece of information that didn’t seem to fit in with anything else they knew about PM. He let out the breath and continued. “Something’s missing. Something is happening and we don’t have enough information to figure out what it is.” 

“Well, you know what to do on that front,” Tom pointed out. “As it is, our only lead is Charles Smith, so I suggest you keep trying to follow that.” 

Dan sighed, but nodded his head and stood up with PJ. Tom was right; unless they could somehow capture and coerce one of the Flitters to talk, which was doubtful, the only thing they could do would be try to find Tyler Oakley. 

“And you two,” Tom said as they were leaving the office. 

“Yeah?” 

“Maybe you should heed that warning. Stick together.”

Dan and PJ shared a look, then nodded. 

“Dan,” PJ said as they left the office, “you should stay with me until this whole thing blows over. We have a spare bed.” 

Dan nodded; as much as he would admittedly miss his little flat, PJ was right. “Yeah, okay. Sure.” 

The walk to the library was a tense one; PJ knew Dan well enough to know he probably wouldn’t be able to vocalise the thoughts until he had a few hours to sort through them. It seemed like everything he knew about their relation to PM had been thrown out the window. But despite their simplicity, the tone of the notes was undeniable: they were definitely some kind of warning. Whether it was given in good or ill will, they would have to wait and see. 

The boxes of files were right where they had left them, in the back room of the library. It was more than a library, really; most libraries didn’t store official documents, but this one was part of a much larger building and part of it had been repurposed. The back section stored mostly documents that weren’t classified, though one still had to have the right credentials to get access to them. The librarians let them use the key to the rooms until they were done with the investigation, though at this rate, they might never get it back. 

Dan could barely concentrate while sorting through the files, and it seemed like PJ was in a similar state. About an hour passed before Dan spoke. “I talked with Gloria.” 

“Gloria?” PJ cocked his head to the side, and Dan realized PJ wouldn’t know who she was. However, after a split second, PJ continued, “Oh—Gloria? Guard Gloria? At Pentland?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Dan said, a little surprised PJ knew who he was talking about. Well, PJ and Tom were more amiable than he was, so maybe it shouldn’t come to that much of a surprise that they were friendly with her before he was. He found himself annoyed again that he was apparently so antisocial to be completely unaware of the people he so often worked with. Well, he knew her now, at least. “She told me about one time that she got tied up during a heist.” 

“Oh yeah?” PJ said, flipping through another folder before replacing it in the box. 

“She said they treated her really well. Made sure she was okay and all that.” 

PJ paused and looked up to raise an eyebrow at Dan. “Where’s this going?” 

Dan shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I just haven’t been able to put it out of my mind for some reason. She didn’t seem to believe they could have killed Charlie Smith. Or that maybe there were different factions inside PM doing different things.” 

PJ frowned, thoughtful. “I mean, it’s worth considering. I don’t think PM is big enough to have different groups within itself, though. Hard to know how many they have but we know of at least, what, six? That’s not that many. Being too big would be a detriment.” 

Dan nodded, mentally tallying them in his head. There were at least two Flitters, of course—red and blue, known from the last few weeks—but probably more, as there were previously at least three documented at a single heist. There was at least one Falconer, with telekinesis and teleportation, who, without invisibility to hide, usually dressed in an all-black suit of clothing. This, along with at least one Broiler, with telekinesis and heat, a Ringer, with invisibility and sound, and possibly another member with levitation. These recurring characters seemed to be present for most heists, at least the ones Dan had been to or those that had eyewitness descriptions, though they relied heavily on the Flitters. 

Additionally, they seemed to cycle through spies or lookouts quickly. Dan had assumed that was a matter of having a core group to do the important stuff versus hiring cheap labor to gather intel. The spies never bothered to cover up their faces, and when they were seen, they were almost never the same one as last time. Perhaps he was wrong, though. Were the spies a downtrodden group amongst PM’s ranks? Could there be some kind of inner warfare? 

Dan doubted it was true. “Yeah, I don’t think PM is that big. They could still fight within themselves, I guess, but I doubt it. If that was the case, they would have called off the Pentland thing by now, and it doesn’t seem like they have. They’re still watching the place.” He looked to PJ, who was shuffling through files again, and then back down to the file in his own hand. ‘Griffin Samuel Oakland,’ the name read. He put it back. “Like I said. None of this seems to fit into what we know about PM, is all.” 

“I agree,” PJ mused, and Dan watched as his expression turned from passive semi-boredom to interest as he picked up the next file. “Well this is… interesting?” 

Dan stood up and rounded the table to look over PJ’s shoulder. It was an immigration file with the name ‘Matthew Tyler Oakley’ printed across the top, along with ‘Country of Origin: United States of America’.

PJ looked up at him and shrugged. “Maybe our Tyler Oakley goes by his middle name?” 

“It’s worth a shot,” Dan said. It was by far the closest they had gotten. “Does it give an address?” 

PJ opened up the file and flipped through the pages. There near the end was a sheet of paper, stating ‘Confirmation of Residence’. It gave an address in central London, not too far from their current location. 

Dan smiled, a tiny flash of hope flickering in his chest for the first time that week. “Perfect.” 

**

Six hours later, the hope was gone and all that remained was frustration. 

PJ was talking to this landlord, because Dan had talked to the last one. They’d gone to five different residences over the day. They found the first one easily and the landlord sitting in an office on the ground floor. He, thankfully, had record of Matthew Tyler Oakley’s residence, but said he moved after just a few months and gave them the forwarding address to another flat nearby. The next three landlords, once they got in contact with them, had the same thing to say: the Oakley guy had stayed there, but not for long, and sent them off to the next forwarding address. 

And so Dan and PJ found themselves talking to the fifth landlord that day, in definitely the shoddiest building of all of them. Dan stood there, notebook and pencil in hand, ready to write down any important information, and he almost rolled his eyes as he heard the man say, “but he moved.” It was getting late, and they definitely didn’t have time to visit another flat before the end of the day. The last thing Dan wanted was to have to try and find another five people to give them the exact same information. It was like following a breadcrumb trail, if it took over an hour to find each crumb. 

“Do you have a forwarding address?” PJ was asking the man, who looked more than a little annoyed to be dragged into an investigation. 

“Think so, but I got to find it.” The man stomped back into the office, the floorboards creaking under his steps. 

PJ gave Dan a sigh, and Dan shrugged in return. The initial excitement of finding a lead had long worn off for both of them, and none of the landlords had been very happy to see them. 

The man returned a few minutes later with a sheet of paper, slightly crumpled. “Think this is it,” he barked. “Have at it.” 

PJ took the piece of paper and looked it over. “Yeah, there’s a forwarding address on here.” He turned the paper so Dan could see it and pointed to the line. 

Dan read the paper and scoffed, shaking his head. “That is the fakest address I have ever seen in my life.” 

_123 Naff Ln._

“Naff Lane? Really?” Dan rolled his eyes, turning to the landlord. “He didn’t give you anything else? This was it?” 

“If it ain’t on the paper, I don’t know it,” the man confirmed. 

PJ handed the paper back with a shrug, and the landlord immediately retreated into his office and slammed the door. 

Dan was still shaking his head, annoyed but knowing he shouldn’t be surprised. “You know what ‘naff’ means?”

PJ shook his head. “Is that even English?”

Dan thought for a second. Could he answer the question without it becoming too revealing? “It’s entertainment industry slang, Polari. It means… boring, or dull, or, uh.” He still didn’t know how to talk about it in the King’s English. “Remember how Mrs. Smith said her son called himself a ‘fairy’?” He put his fingers up in air-quotes. “Well, the opposite of that. So normal, I guess. But in a boring way.”

“Ah.” PJ raised an eyebrow at him, a tiny smirk working its way onto his face along with a twinge of recognition. “Polari; I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know it at all.” He paused a moment. “So is that the language you were using with Phil the other night?” 

Dan blushed, though he hoped it wasn’t visible in the dim hallway. Did PJ know the connotations it had? “Yeah, I, uh, used to do theater, and he’s in music, of course. You pick it up easily.”

“Mmhmm,” PJ mused, a hint of playfulness in his voice. He gave Dan a look out of the corner of his eye as they walked, like he was trying to decide whether to push the issue. “You know…” 

Dan caught his eye, a small well of fear in his chest. He definitely wasn’t ready for this sort of confrontation. 

But PJ seemed to catch on, and his face turned serious. “Hey, we don't have to talk about this if you don't want to.”

Dan’s heart fell. Who was he kidding? PJ probably already knew. Everyone probably already knew. It was obvious, wasn’t it? The way he turned pink so easily even talking about the subject. That he had never dated a woman and had open disdain for the idea of marriage. The way he flirted so easily with Phil, even if he didn’t really mean to. PJ was there at the Mucky Duck with him, after all, and it’s not like his partner was dumb—he was an expert detective. He probably put the pieces into place a long time ago. He was lucky PJ hadn’t already dumped him like the pervert he really was. 

_Disgusting. Stupid boy. You should have known he would have figured it out by now._

“I can’t—” Dan’s voice was small and trembling. He couldn’t talk about this right now. 

They had stopped by the door, and the only thing stopping the silence was the light pitter-patter of rain.

“Dan.” 

Dan managed to drag his gaze away from his feet to meet PJ’s. His brows were knitted together in concern. 

PJ put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re friends no matter what, okay?”

Dan let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, chin trembling. How had he gotten so lucky in finding his coworkers? “Friends no matter what,” he confirmed. 

PJ pushed the door open to the street. “Well, since that address is fake, it means we’re now back to square one.” 

Dan sighed, his nerves beginning to calm as the reality of the investigation set in. They stood outside the shoddy building under the awning, the rain picking up into a full-blown storm, dark clouds casting a gloom across the city. Dan looked out from under the brim of his newsboy cap, taking in the street, though he saw no one of import. They had spent a good five days poring over files to find any mentions of a Tyler Oakley, and the only lead they got from that was a total dead end. Where would they go from here? There were some files left to review, but he seriously doubted they’d find another lead. Tyler Oakley had taken steps to hide his location, and there wasn’t much they could do to find him, with the only known connection being dead.

The rain picked up as PJ called them a cab back to the office to update Tom. Dan heard a slight _pop_ somewhere, barely distinguishable from the sound of the rain. He looked around, trying to be discrete.

There. 

Across the street, under the awning of the building, there was a slight glimmer of dark blue. The Flitter, probably trying to get out of the rain that was now pouring down. 

Dan nudged PJ slightly and nodded his head in the direction of the Flitter. “Blue’s over there.” 

PJ raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and sighed, looking defeated. “Figures.”

It seemed like they were locked into the path they were on with PM. No matter if they found the information they needed, plots would keep turning around them, just as the rain would continue to fall. Was there anything they could do to alter their course now, and where were the tracks even leading them to? The more information they got, the less everything made sense. Dan leaned his head against the cab window and closed his eyes, but found that no matter how hard he tried, his mind would not rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Cascade" by The Dear Hunter


	9. Starving Eyes Led by Subtle Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to note, I have updated the tags for this fic to be more accurate and more descriptive. Please take a look at them before you continue reading!

Over the next two days, Dan and PJ finished fishing through the boxes of files. There were no other Tyler Oakleys. Mid-afternoon Wednesday, they begrudgingly returned the key to the librarians and walked back to the office. It was drizzling, but neither suggested calling a cab. 

Tom didn’t seem surprised to hear the results, only letting out a dissatisfied sigh, mirroring how they all felt. 

One thing that made Dan more concerned, however, was the absence of the Flitters. Since Monday, Dan hadn’t seen hide nor hair of PM. He’d been staying at PJ’s place, on a folding camp bed that wasn’t nearly as comfortable as his own, but admittedly, made him feel more safe. 

Dan couldn’t stop thinking about how little sense the actions of PM seemed to make. He tried to categorize it: their intentions, their overall goal, their actions, towards and not towards him and PJ. Everything worked together until he considered that final row: PM were an organization who stole a wide variety of items from a wide variety of places, but all things worth great value or with great importance. Dan and PJ were detectives trying to uncover their identities, prevent the thefts, and arrest them. They weren’t friends or allies in any way, and yet Dan couldn’t convince himself that their recent warning was malicious. 

But if they weren’t acting with malintent, what did that mean? How could PM not be opposed to the people who sought to see them imprisoned? Were the notes truly a warning? Dan shook his head. It just didn’t make sense anymore. It was a grand puzzle with missing pieces, a tapestry with tangled threads. 

Not long after they returned to the office, there was a knock at the door and Dan found a messenger on the other side. 

“Thomas Ridgewell?” She seemed slightly out of breath.

Dan stepped back and waved her inside, directing her to Tom’s office. PJ followed them in. 

The messenger gave a curt nod to Tom, the bun of hair on her head bobbing, and he stood from his desk. “I have a sealed message from Louise Pentland.” She handed over a blank envelope. 

The messenger left quickly, and Tom read the note aloud: _”Tom, our phone lines have been cut. A large portion of cable has been removed and it will take some time to be repaired. In the meantime, I have employed a messenger. If they don’t bankrupt me in stealing all my merchandise, they might do anyway in all the new wages I have to pay. xx Louise”_

“Looks like PM is gearing up to pull it off,” Dan said. 

“It makes sense,” PJ said. “It’s been a few weeks since they were first spotted. I’m surprised they haven’t done it before now.” 

“Maybe the Charles Smith thing delayed them,” Tom suggested. “They’ve been putting manpower into following you two. Can’t be good for the main job.” 

“When do you think it’ll happen?” PJ asked. “Tonight?” 

“No,” Dan said. “Not tonight. They’ll give it a day or two to wear the guards out—Louise’ll have them on overtime. Tomorrow or Friday, maybe. Saturday, even.” 

Tom nodded. “Good call.”

“I’m going to make a copy of some of our notes,” Dan said, “to give to the guards. Who knows, it might help.” 

Dan and PJ sat at their desks for the rest of the day, poring over the pages of notes about PM that they had read a million times, finding nothing they didn’t already know, and copying them to new sheets of paper. This sudden dead end from the Charles Smith case was driving Dan a little crazy, and now knowing that PM was looking to strike soon, he was frustrated they hadn’t learned anything new to help. It felt like the calm before the storm, and Dan was certain it would be a torrent. 

“Dan,” PJ said, drawing him out of his thoughts. 

“Hmm?”

“I have to go straight home,” PJ said. “Sophie’s expecting me; she had that presentation today, remember? And she’ll get concerned if I’m not home when I said I’d be.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine?” Dan asked, not sure what PJ’s point was. 

“Were you planning on taking these to Pentland tonight?” 

“Oh.” Dan hadn’t even thought of that; he’d have to go alone, and the two had agreed to stick together. “I still think I should go, though. Help them prepare. They’re probably convinced it’ll be tonight.”

PJ looked doubtful. “Okay, but be careful, yeah? Take a cab or borrow one of the guards to walk you home.” He gave Dan a pointed look. 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He patted the gun holstered at his side. 

When they were done copying everything Dan thought they might need, Tom dismissed them for the day, and they parted ways, Dan heading towards Pentland through the hustle and bustle of evening traffic. He was glad it had stopped raining, for under one arm he held the folder of information to give to Gloria and the rest of the guards: typical PM strategies, a list of known entities and their affinities, along with other tidbits of information they might find useful. Gloria might already know some of it, but Dan knew he had the most comprehensive analysis of PM out there. Copying some of it to let them have a reference couldn’t be a bad idea. 

He knocked on the door, and a guard he didn’t recognize opened it slightly before letting him in. Dan looked around; there were four guards mulling about, Gloria one of them, along with Louise. The safes full of merchandise now had chains wrapped around them with large padlocks sealing each one. Extra protection was far from unprecedented, and though it was a good idea, Dan wasn’t sure it would hold PM off no matter how many padlocks they added. 

Dan didn’t stay long, declining Louise’s offer of tea, instead just quickly summarizing their theories about when PM would strike and going over some diagrams drawn out detailing previous heists. He put special emphasis on knowing who to likely expect: two Flitters, red and blue, plus possibly a third; a yellow Falconer, with teleportation and telekinesis; a cherry-red Broiler, with telekinesis and heat; a green Ringer, with invisibility and sound; plus someone else with levitation, coloured teal. The four guards present followed along, but Dan noted that they all looked exhausted. Just a few weeks of constant vigilance staring at the same streets had already worn them out. He hoped the news that PM would strike soon might pump them up and told them to make sure to be well rested for the next few days. 

Even after all this time, with each new PM case, a tiny part of him hoped that this would be the one. 

The sun was setting when he left Pentland Jewelry and started back towards his flat. Both Pentland Jewelry and the cinema were close to the city center, and the streets drew Dan back to that Sunday, walking home after seeing the film with Phil, Martyn and Cornelia. 

When he reached the intersection at which they said their goodbyes, Dan paused. It was Wednesday. How had he forgotten? The Aberdeen Suite would be playing at the Mucky Duck that night. 

Dan _did_ tell Phil he would see them on Wednesday… 

But PJ was expecting him, and he wasn’t supposed to be out without him right now. 

But PJ would just assume Dan was still at Pentland Jewelry, and his trip on Sunday proved that PM wouldn’t bother him as long as he was around other people. Plus, he hadn’t actually seen any of the Flitters practically all week.

His heart ached. Could Dan lie to one of his only friends, just for the opportunity to see a man? Even if the man was probably the most intriguing person Dan had ever met? 

Somewhat surprisingly, Dan found himself thinking that yeah, actually, maybe he could. Did that make him a bad person? 

Far from the first time, he bitterly thought that PJ and Tom probably should have dropped him by now. He really was a terrible friend. 

But he had made up his mind, and his feet were already carrying him in the direction of the Mucky Duck. 

It was much later than he usually showed up, so when he arrived he wasn’t surprised to find the band most of the way through their set. As soon as he walked in, his eyes went directly to the mop of black hair he could point out a mile away, sitting alone at one of the tables nearer the front. Foregoing a drink for the night, knowing he should stay sober for the next few days, he made his way directly to the table. As he approached, he saw the table was littered with papers. Dan raised an eyebrow at the assortment; long lists, full paragraphs, diagrams, what looked like blueprints. Was Phil planning some kind of construction project? 

Phil’s back was towards Dan, and he paused; the man looked like he was concentrating very hard, and Dan didn’t really want to interrupt. He supposed that couldn’t really be helped. Phil was pretty much the entire reason he was here, after all, so after a moment, he loudly, pointedly, pulled out a chair next to him. 

Phil practically jumped out of his skin, and before Dan could even react, Phil was gone, invisible, and a split second later Dan heard the _pop_ of teleportation. Wow, his reaction times were fast.

Dan knew that Phil hadn’t gone far, as he could feel the air around him shift to accommodate Phil’s new position in the room, letting Dan know that Phil was at most only a few meters away. He had almost forgotten Phil’s affinities, as he never had reason to use them around Dan. Funny how all of the people turning his life upside down were Flitters, he thought. 

A moment later and Phil reappeared on the other side of the table, still in his sitting position, facing away from Dan. He stood up and turned around, one hand on his chest, a sheepish smile on his face. “Jesus Christ, Dan, you scared me.” He circled back around the table and began to pick up the scattering of papers, tucking them into a folder. “I didn’t think you’d be here tonight, not this late, at least.” 

“Work kept me,” Dan said, “but I _did_ say I would see you on Wednesday.” 

Phil smiled as he tucked away the last of the papers. “That you did.” 

Dan eyed the thick folder. “I didn’t realize that much paperwork went into managing the band.” 

Phil shrugged and pulled off his glasses to rub his eyes. He had some pretty dark bags under his eyes, Dan noticed, amongst other thoughts about Phil’s face with no glasses he chose to ignore. “Yeah, we just have a lot going on right now. Lots of players, only one of me,” Phil said, then yawned. 

Dan empathetically yawned too. “Maybe you should go get some sleep?” 

Phil gave Dan a confused look. “But you just got here.” 

“Don’t feel like you have to stay because I’m here. I know it’s late.” 

Phil shook his head. “I’ll stay as long as you’re here to keep me company.” The words had an air of finality to them. 

Dan smiled involuntarily as he tried very hard not to overthink those words. “Sorry for interrupting your work,” he said instead. 

Phil waved a hand dismissively. “I needed to finish up anyway, to help the band take down soon.” 

As if on cue, the band finished their current song with a final chord, they all bowed and Cornelia thanked the crowd, announcing the end of the show. 

“That’s me,” Phil said, hopping up from his chair. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, promise.” 

Dan tried not to stare as Phil helped the band take things off stage, he really did. But knowing him even better now, he had a real appreciation for the way the man organized all the people so smoothly. It was clear to see that Phil really was an important member of the band, despite not actually playing in it, as he directed all the players exactly where to go quickly and efficiently. For some reason, unlike the last time he had watched take-down, they were removing practically everything from the stage. 

Phil beckoned Cornelia over to the piano. Dan watched as she cracked her knuckles before splaying her hands out in front of her, palms up, legs bent in a slight squat. After a moment the piano rose slightly into the air and Phil got his hands under the other side to help. Cornelia kept one hand as-is, while with the other she made a pushing motion, and the piano glided off-stage, Phil helping direct it from the other side. She followed slowly, obviously struggling under the weight, but managing. A yellow-gold haze of colour drew a line from the piano to Cornelia’s fingertips as she did so. 

Dan had always been jealous of those with more useful affinities. The more external affinities could be used on other objects, or even other people. A piano was very heavy, and Dan was a little surprised Cornelia was able to lift it, but it wasn’t uncommon. All it took was practice, just like anything else. Using one’s affinities was a combination of both mental and physical prowess, requiring both strength and concentration, and using an affinity on another person was about twice as difficult, Dan had been told. 

Some of the ones Dan thought were most useful were invisibility, teleportation, and levitation; they all affected the person with the affinity, though if the person concentrated, they could also affect objects they were holding, and one of the first things a person would learn as a child is how to include their clothes. Telekinesis was useful too, though it was completely external, and required a lot of strength on the part of the person using it. With enough concentration, the person using it could manipulate objects in complicated ways, but simple pushing or pulling were much easier. The further away something was, the more difficult it was to affect. 

In complete contrast, Dan’s two were fully internal: sense heightening and magic sense. Magic sense was the only affinity that was completely innate, with no way of turning it on or off. Sense heightening was somewhat of a misnomer: in reality, Dan could increase or decrease any of his senses independently, and the difficult thing about sense heightening was that there were a _lot_ of senses—there were the obvious ones like vision, hearing, touch, taste, and smell, but Dan could also affect his balance, feelings of hunger or nausea, ability to feel pain, and even his sense of limb position. Unhelpfully, though, he could only affect himself. 

Dan sighed as Phil reappeared on stage, picking up a few chairs and teleporting back off, while a saxophonist with salmon-red levitation picked up a large drum and pushed himself off stage. In an alternate universe, he could have been a Serapher like his brother, with light and levitation. Between the two of them, they inherited all four affinities from their parents. He always thought his brother’s were far more useful. 

Preoccupied in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the stage had been cleared until Phil sat down again. “You look like you’re thinking about something interesting.” 

Dan shrugged. “Just affinities.” 

“What about them?” 

“How useful some of them are, and how useless mine feel sometimes.” 

“Useless?” Phil laughed. “You’re a Seeker, right? You’re one of the least useless people alive.” 

Dan shook his head. “For my specific job, sure. But it’s so limited. I can’t affect anything else, can’t affect my surroundings. I wouldn’t be able to help you carry that piano, for example.” 

“Not everything is about physical interaction, Dan. You’re the most perceptive person I’ve ever met. You knew where I teleported earlier before I cleared the invisibility, which I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do before.” Phil shook his head in disbelief. “How did you even do that, Dan? I actually have no idea—I _know_ I didn’t leave an outline.” 

Dan shrugged, uncomfortable at the praise and unable to look at Phil’s face. “Air pressure. It only worked because you were close.” 

“I’m sure if your affinities were suddenly different, you’d realize what you didn’t know you had.” Phil smiled. “I’m actually kind of jealous. I like my affinities but compared to you, I’m practically blind.” 

Martyn and Cornelia sat down then, Cornelia holding a glass of white wine and Martyn holding a pint. “Finally,” Martyn said. “Wednesdays always take so long.” 

“Do you always pack up the whole set on Wednesday?” Dan asked, and Martyn nodded. “What for?”

“The band plays somewhere else on Thursdays,” Phil explained. “We have to move everything to the other venue.” 

“Sounds like a pain,” Dan sympathized. “Though I’m surprised you don’t already have a piano at the other place.” 

“We do, usually, but one of the strings broke last week, so until it’s fixed, we have to use this one,” Cornelia explained.

“Where do you guys play on Thursdays anyway?” Dan asked. 

He didn’t miss that both Martyn and Cornelia looked immediately to Phil. “An event,” Phil said carefully. Well, apparently that was a sensitive topic. Where could they possibly be playing to need such secrecy? 

“What, are you playing for the King or something?” Dan joked. 

Martyn chuckled. “No, not that prestigious. I don’t think it’s something you’d be interested in.” 

“Actually—” Phil said, then cut off, seemingly surprised that he had opened his mouth at all. Martyn gave him a look, suddenly stern. Phil met Martyn’s gaze, and it was like they were having an unspoken conversation that Dan wasn’t privy to. 

What the Hell was this about? They were playing music, not bloody planning to overthrow the government. At least, he hoped, though Dan didn’t think they’d need a piano for that. 

The air was tense, and Dan felt the need to break it. “I mean, if the Aberdeen Suite is playing, I’d definitely be interested.” 

The tension continued for a few moments before Phil spoke, pointedly breaking eye contact with Martyn and turning to Dan. “It might be something you’re interested in, actually.” 

“Okay, Philly, let’s talk,” Martyn interrupted. He gestured for the black-haired man to follow him and Dan watched as the two crossed the room. Martyn began to speak, something Dan could hear but not quite make out, when Phil motioned towards Dan and Martyn turned, realizing his mistake. Martyn led Phil into a room behind the bar, where Dan doubted he would be able to make out their words if he tried, not that he was going to. Whatever they were discussing, Dan knew it wasn’t for his ears, and he had no intentions of repeating the embarrassment the last time he overheard a conversation about him. 

“Sorry,” Cornelia said, voice soft, blue eyes crinkling. “It’s just… sensitive.” She gave him a weak smile. 

“It’s because I’m a detective, isn’t it?” Dan asked. He saw no other reason for them to be so secretive. “It’s not legal, whatever you’re doing.” 

“I wouldn’t say it’s illegal, but let’s just say it’s invitation-only.” 

After a few minutes he heard the door creak and Phil walked out, Martyn following, and they took their places at the table. 

“So,” Phil began. “Dan.” He was about as serious as Dan had ever seen him, and the intensity of his gaze made Dan gulp. 

“Yes?” 

“Please don’t get mad at me for this.” Phil grimaced, and Dan felt his heart drop. Was this the denial? Did Martyn convince him to not tell Dan? “I’d like to invite you to come see the band play tomorrow, but first I have to ask you some questions.” 

Dan frowned, confused. “Okay, sure, like what?” 

“You speak Polari,” Phil stated. 

Dan’s mouth went dry. What did that have to do with anything? “That’s not a question.” 

“You told me you learned it through theater,” Phil continued, “but do you understand the implications?” 

“I…” Dan looked to Martyn and Cornelia, who both seemed like they were analyzing him. “Could we maybe have this conversation alone, Phil? No offense.” 

“We can’t, Dan, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.” Phil was speaking awkwardly, forcing the words out of his mouth, like he was reading a script he was unfamiliar with. “You’re a cop, and I know, I know, you’re a ‘detective, not a cop’,” Phil made air quotes, badly, “but in this case it doesn’t matter. You told me before that you wouldn’t go after the kinds of people who speak Polari. I need you to swear it to me now.” 

_Oh._ Exactly what kind of party was this?

“I swear it,” Dan said firmly. He didn’t know what he was in for, but he wanted to find out.

“This isn’t just temporary either, Dan. No matter what happens, I need to trust that you will never use your position to out or arrest anyone of that disposition, _for_ that disposition, now or in the future.” Definitely rehearsed, Dan noted. “It doesn’t matter if we stay friends, if you hate my guts, whatever happens. Promise me.” 

“I promise. I would never.” 

“Then would you be interested in attending an event with, uh, some Polari speakers?” Phil smiled, awkwardly but sincerely. “The Aberdeen Suite will be there.” 

Dan looked at the three people in front of him: Phil, smiling at him and looking hopeful; Martyn, eyes narrowed; Cornelia, expression carefully neutral, but nonetheless Dan knew she was trying to read him. He’d already managed to tell Phil that he spoke Polari, though he did try to cover up the reasons why, not that he was lying, technically. Did Martyn and Cornelia know before now? Phil and Martyn were brothers, and they seemed pretty close; Dan had to assume Phil had told him. Plus, if this whole questioning thing was for the protection of people of “that disposition”, as Phil had phrased it, Martyn and Cornelia had to be okay with it, right? As much as Martyn seemed to not trust him, Dan realized they were all on the same side. 

He thought back, trying to ignore the painful memories, insead focusing on the sense of comradery he had only ever felt in his theater days. In the end, he was left alone and dangerously close to falling, but before that… Before that, it was good. Before that, there was acceptance.

He looked back at Phil. “Yeah, I think I’d be interested.” Martyn raised an eyebrow, and Dan caught his gaze. “I mean, like you said, the Aberdeen Suite will be there. Plus it’s invitation-only. Prestigious.” 

Dan regarded the trio after he spoke. Phil looked to Martyn like a kid asking his parents for a toy. Based on how they acted earlier, Dan was fairly certain that this event was Phil’s thing, but now Phil looked like he needed Martyn’s approval anyway. Martyn flicked his eyes toward Cornelia, who gave a very subtle nod of her head. Martyn rolled his eyes. “Fine.” 

Phil immediately beamed. “I really think you’ll love it. There’s live music, and dancing, and… Well. There’s a lot to take in the first time, but I promise it’s fun.” He paused, and Dan blushed as Phil looked him up and down. Was he checking Dan out? “You’re pretty tall, so I think you’ll fit my stuff; I’ll grab you something to wear. I’m well aware you prefer black, because I don’t think I’ve seen you wear any other colours, but trust me you want to be colourful, and I have this gold suit jacket, or if you want you can wear the silver one? I think the gold one will be better but you know, whichever you want—”

“Okay Phil, I think you need to slow down a little,” Cornelia said, giggling. “You’ll overwhelm him.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Phil said sheepishly. 

“Phil’s just a proud host,” Martyn said. 

Host? Was Phil the person who ran the whole thing? “Are you the organizer?” 

Phil nodded and shrunk back a little self-consciously. “It’s my other main job, aside from managing the band. I don’t do it all alone, of course, but mostly.” 

Dan felt flattered that Phil was so excited to invite him. Not only was it apparently a closed event, it was Phil’s personal project, and… it was full of Polari speakers. People of “that disposition”. He had tried not to overthink it in the past, but confronted with it now, he let himself give in to the idea that Phil might also be of “that disposition”; why else would he host this kind of event? And what did Dan say about himself by accepting the invitation? Well, it’s not like Phil didn’t practically know already. Even Dan knew his blurted-out excuse was weak before, even if it was technically the truth. And perhaps… but no. Dan couldn’t let himself think about the possibilities. Getting his hopes up was not an option. 

Dan took a second to process it all, letting himself get pulled up into Phil’s wide smile a little. “Alright, so where is this little event being held?”

“You can meet me here at half six. We’ll take a cab. Oh, and wear a long coat maybe; I’ll bring something for you to wear and have you change before we leave. Is that okay?” Phil asked. 

“Yeah,” Dan breathed, a little giddy. “Yeah. That’s great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Girl" by The Dear Hunter


End file.
